


Beneath the Stars and Into the Sun

by Mystic_Wonders



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Aftertale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Dancetale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Echotale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Horrortale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underlust (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), F/F, F/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Multi, Multiverse Theory, POV First Person, Reader can see...things, Reader is from Reality, Reader is petite, Reader's Sister travels along, Self-Harm, Strong Language, Strong adult themes, Undertale Gaster is Alive, Undertale Gaster is the Eldest Sibling, reader has a sister, reader is female
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2020-12-28 05:22:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21131324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystic_Wonders/pseuds/Mystic_Wonders
Summary: Once upon a time, monsters never existed on the surface. They were fiction, only written within story form by the fans to who love them. They stem from the main branch of story, creating diverse universes and backstories that often draw me in. It is these works that compel me to hold hope. The hope that one day, magic will be real, humans will become kinder, and the brothers who save me time and time again will be real.





	1. Prologue

Beneath the Stars and into the Sun

Prologue

“I am sorry to tell you this Miss ____. The corporation has decided to go in another direction and although you are a valued member of…” I stop listening to the long, drawn out, corporate spiel. It is the same wherever you go: come in as a peon, work long, hard, hours in hopes to retain the job. Perhaps even, dare I say it, get promoted into the higher ranks. The hopes hang high until one day, you may accidentally spill coffee on the office’s known lapdog. And maybe, just maybe, through fits of apologetic phrasing, a fist is thrown your way. And _possibly _you snap, beating the ever-loving tar out of her. I mean, this is all hypothetical…right.

“…We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you.” I shrug my shoulders, plastering a fake smile.

“It is not your fault. Can’t shoot the messenger for something the higherups wish to happen.” The woman visibly relaxes, a small frown gracing her tastefully colored lips. Her glossy green eyes glance around the frames of her glasses, searching for something. She leans forward as though telling her best friend a damaging secret, eyes hardening like emeralds.

“You are a fantastic hard worker ___. If they can’t see it, then they can take it and shove it far up their asses.” Her eyes determine the reasoning for my termination to be on falsified grounds, but I do not confirm nor deny. She waits a beat, leaning back as I merely shrug once more. A rough sigh passes through her pointed nose; aging hands remove the spectacles from the bridge.

“It all appears fishy in my books, but, if you do not wish to fight back, then that is your decision.” I nod mutely. She sighs again.

“If you should ever need anything, a reference or someone to talk to, know I am here for you dear. It has truly been an honor.” I stand, the shitty office chair screeching as it slides across aged linoleum.

“Thank you again Margaret. It has been a pleasure working for you as well.” Margaret’s lips tighten to a thin line, her hands fiddling with the frames of her glasses. She says nothing more as I depart, the sound of rapid typing filling the otherwise quiet space. Heels click along the cheap tiles at a rapid pace, racing to the worn cubicle I use to call my workspace. The aging desk creaks under any movement within a two-foot radius, but it provides conversation during the long, lonely nights. Its counterpart, an old vomit green swivel chair, cries under any pressure or weight, seeking revenge by jamming its feet every few slides. I personally keep a first aid kit stashed in one of the drawers due to the number of bloody noses that _thing _has given me.

I untie and retie my hair, painting a small anxious smile on my face. Tears threaten to bubble over my eyes, pounding restlessly against the thin veil. There are some good memories buried in the bullshit, but it is those little memories that make the job fun.

“Now is time to pack up and start again.” The company _graciously _left a decent box for packing while termination was in progress. How _thoughtful._

“Priorities.” I snort as I throw my cellphone betwixt my ear and shoulder. The device begins ringing at a steady beat; my hands carefully line the bottom of the box with various papers for support.

_“Hey this is Grant. I can’t come to the phone right now…” _I end the call, staring at the phone with a slight frown. His picture stares back with an all teeth smile, the rays of the sun causing a halo effect to illuminate his frame. It fades to black after a minute, the time taking its place with blocky text. A small, gnawing feeling burrows deep within my stomach, something within my mind screams foul play. Rather than listen to the claws of anxious behavior, I swallow it down.

_‘Of course, he wouldn’t answer. He must be at work for the afternoon.’ _I reason, pocketing the device into my cardigan. My lips shiver against the plastic smile, straining to fight against the external façade.

_‘That must be the reason for it all. Afterall, even if he is home, he never charges his phone. Silly boy.’_ I work in silence, thoughts jumping from various scenarios, escalating, what if it happens, what if he is cheating, what if I become homeless…

**_‘Breathe.’ _**A shaky breath expands my lungs, the world focusing back to its traditional sharpness. Huh. When did I grab this? I shake my head, stashing the thoughts under a box in the corner. The trinkets are few and far between, a collection of oddities over the years.

A poster of a sassy bunny rolled and tied with a hairband, a sand garden spilling some of its contents throughout the box (and on the company floor), a funny looking pencil holder, a photo of the last company picnic laid gingerly on top and… … …huh.

I reach for the known spot of my ladybug loaf, shuffling a bit before coming up empty handed. It typically sits right next to the computer; a small, adorable trinket I found at the five below store. I poke my head up to verify that it is indeed, missing. My eyebrows crinkle, a frown pulling at the edges of my lips.

_‘Where did I put it?’ _The search begins with the desk drawers. They surprisingly glide smoothly despite the nearly busting belly of papers. It is evident from the overflowing amount of paperwork that it could not be in there without being shredded…or turned into paper.

_‘Heh…a stuffed animal turning into a piece of paper.’ _I give the drawer a solid kick, watching with smug satisfaction at its resounding _‘thud!’ _echoes the space. A few keyboards cease their ministrations for a second, hushed whispers taking their place. I roll my eyes, standing fully erect to reach the second set of cabinets. They rest uncomfortably above the desk space, the hatch often whining and crying like many workers here. The only difference is it has the option to simply refuse move. This takes a good moment before it gives, shimmying the binders dangerously close to the edge. Again, the space is packed (a little more efficiently) with binders and paperwork with no real wiggle room for much else. I leave it open; it is not worth the aggravation to attempt to close it once more.

“Where the fucking hell is it?” I grumble under my breath. “You would think something that large would be easy to spot but nooooo. Cause fuck you that’s why!” The search continues for another five minutes until finally, just finally…

“It’s not here…” I sigh, bristling. My hands reach for the box, crushing the material a little too tightly.

_‘If these fucking assholes think they can get away with taking something of mine. Woo boy, they are in for a **rude **awakening!’_

The walk of shame is how one would picture it: all the end cap people turn a wandering eye in your direction, some smug, some sad, some outright asleep in their chairs. Whispers follow shortly after; theories and outlandish accusations pass from ear to mouth faster than electricity. They go to extreme lengths, but due to the final departure, there is no way to dispute anything. I elbow the elevator button, keeping my eyes glued to the floor. The flow of typing slows further, hundreds of little beady eyes glancing over their plastic confinement. It _‘pings!’ _opening the only space possible for a moment of peace. But of course, the universe does not like giving an out this time around.

“Hey ___. Heard you were fired this afternoon.” I grit my teeth, plastering a fake smile as I raise my gaze.

“Thanks for the not so subtle hello Brad.” Brad rubs the back of his shaved head sheepishly; pine wood colored eyes hide behind thick tan sheets. Attempting to amend his behavior, Brad selects the first floor, causing the elevator to jolt uncomfortably.

“How bad are the rumors?” He shifts uncomfortably next to you, the material of his shirt gliding across his broad frame. He peeks through thick lashes, a wince evident on his babyface.

“Some are saying it is because you have secret relations with upper management that are ‘no longer secret’. Others are saying something about a drug lord and how you were finally ‘found out’.” He air quotes with an eyeroll, shuffling his hands behind him once more. The doors open to the main floor; eyes pass but only briefly. I walk out, rolling my eyes at the obviously exasperated claims.

“Please. If I was a drug lord would I really…be…” The world around me vanishes behind a blurry curtain, words and colors merging to one coherent unit. The ladybug loaf hangs from the front door by a black lace, stuffing fluttering down like fresh snow. The antenna is cut from the creature’s massacred face, kicked along with its stuffing by those walking by. The center is split open like a dissection, most of its innards already on the floor. What remains in it continues to sway in the breeze, attempting to hold on. A single bright yellow posted note hangs above it, words scratched on with elegance.

_‘Get wrecked slut.’_

“___.” A single word brings reality crashing forward, boiling anger and sadness painting the soul at once. People mumble in annoyance as I block their passage to freedom, but I give them a passing glare in turn. My grip rectifies its lax hold on the box, refusing to allow this company to destroy anything more. I shrug the thick hand off my shoulder, shoving the box into his hands instead. My gait is quick, precise, like a panther planning, surveying, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. My hands tremble under the careful ministrations, but it is only caught by my wandering eye. I let the string and note fall, stepping over it and the remaining cotton tainted by the company floor. As though it is a newborn, I place it within the box, grabbing the carboard with a quiet, “Thank you.” Nothing is said as I leave through the company’s doors, nor as I pass those I have worked with for x amount of years. They barely spare a glance, opting to stare intently to their devices or the surroundings. Thankfully, the cretins left my car alone.

I suppress the urge to run each of them over as it slides out of the parking lot, merging with afternoon traffic. I attempt to call my boyfriend once more, the device immediately putting me into voicemail. Worry and anxiety gnaws with renewed force, thoughts racing through, attempting to explain his absence.

_‘He…he must not have charged it or it is on the charger now…yeah…’_

Quiet pop music attempts to uplift the depressing atmosphere with quick, whimsical songs. The chill of crisp winter air flutters through an open window but does nothing to quell the burning rage within. Traffic, thank the stars, is light considering the time.

“I should just go to his house…He shouldn’t mind, right? I mean, girlfriends and boyfriends do that all the time…I think?” I shake my head.

“Yeah! I can surprise him by showing up! And it isn’t like I haven’t tried calling him either so…!” I give a nod, changing course midturn. A few cars honk in obvious anger/protest; I give them a sheepish wave and lower my head in embarrassment.

I pull up alongside the curb after 20 long yet fast minutes of driving. A weight begins to lift off my soul at the sight of his jeep, the feelings of safety and contentment fluttering anxiously.

_‘He must have just gotten home not too long ago! This is perfect!’_

I quickly pop out, not bothering to lock the cheap ass, hand me down from my sister. What are they going to steal? The driver’s manual to the car? The two-story household stands sturdy like the many faux stone houses around it, immaculate lawns stretching across each household. Two, maybe three concrete steps leading up to the concrete front porch. It houses little potted plant named Phillip (I mean, why not?), and a simple plastic white bench.

The key slides smoothly into the gold painted tumblers, pushing the rust colored door open. Immediately my senses are hit with the smell of pot and sugar, a familiar warming smell as if saying, “Welcome home.” It draws a smile on my face and eases some tension from the soul.

The house is quiet sans for the faint sound effects off in the distance.

_‘He must be watching a movie and hasn’t checked his phone recently.’ _Cool wooden stairs tap as I ascend, doing its very best to keep the noise to a minimum. Grant absolutely _hates _being scared, but there is a small, sick part of me that enjoys scaring him anyway. Especially in cases like this where the entrance can be like the Shrek meme.

The hall bends at the top, branching into a two v three door battle; snoring coming from one, a movie from another. A rather loud explosion blocks any other noise off the radar, the sound followed by a muffled line from the main character.

_‘I will never understand why men like listening to their movies so loud.’ _I walk towards the door, hand hovering over the silver painted knob. Words attempt to sharpen through the wood with no luck, but, another sound whispers beneath the sound. I have to strain to hear it; the sound vanishing as quickly as it came. The feeling from earlier returns full force, twisting my intestines, beating their head against my sternum. Blood flushes out any sounds other than the sound of my heart, my hands begin to sweat with nerves.

_‘It is probably just part of the movie. Jeez girl! Getting yourself so nervous that you hear other noises!’_

A deep breath and a mischievous feeling is all that I need to follow through with the plan. The knob twists completely, foot poised in position as a pre-reaction comes to the forefront.

_‘Most likely, a scream and him falling off the bed with a string of swears. Then a comical flail off the bed only to bolt, scooping me up to initiate a tickle war.’_ With a deep breath, my foot kicks the door open, revealing the familiar burnt orange walls, the heavy hint of weed, and the blaring movie.

“SomeBODY once told me the…world…was…going…to…” The lyrics are lost to the sound of the movie; the deep gnawing insecurity comes full circle, bubbling to its peak. There is a _‘thud!’ _along with a string of curses, but it is not in the loving tone I know. A female voice follows his curses with a sudden gasp, fabric shifting quickly to cover the person beneath. His broad backside is bare, hair askew from the beige fingers threaded through it. Similar colored legs splay on either side of his shoulders, the more immodest parts covered by the thin navy bedsheet. My so-called friend glances over his shoulder with a bright flush of shame, lime green eyes glancing down. Grant delicately pries her legs from his shoulders, a deep flush painting his ears as he turns around.

“__...____” His tone, strong, familiar, safe. Hazel eyes wide, shining, a fake mist of tears breaching the corners. The same eyes that would captivate, crinkle with boisterous laughter, downcast to hide emotions… How they betray his true intentions despite the charade.

She attempts to sit up, grasping the fabric close to her bodice. The same bodice I often envy…how thin she is, how her hourglass form creates an allure along with her confidence. It appears her allure reaches those in a relationship…even her friend’s.

“I…I can explain.” It is a familiar spiel heard time and time again: it just happened, I never meant for this to happen, I never meant for this to go this far… I give him a look, hands grasping at the fabric, grounding. Something within beats rapidly, forcing the words through tight lips.

“You…slept with her…” My voice is low, soft, _numb_. It blanks the mind into a state of protection, shutting down all emotions. There is no accusation, no anger, only a matter of fact. His face twists into something ugly, the features morphing into anger and annoyance. The air is charged with sparks of fire, the rage emanating from his oversized form.

“Yes, I did. And do you know why?” He does not wait for an answer, his hands tightening into fists.

“Because you checked out. You stopped talking to me about things, constantly calling someone late in the night. You are cheating on me!” He stands his five-foot eight height, barely shadowing over my five-foot four frame. A fist makes contact with the wall nearby, the force vibrating the objects around.

“You are not the girl I fell in love with. You are some fucking stranger. _My _girl would fight to keep this relationship. _My _girl loves me. You? I don’t know who the fuck you are or where _my _girl went.” I stare on in silence, biting my tongue of any negative words. He takes this as ignorance, scoffing as he moves near my ex-friend.

“_She _is there for me! Listening and giving me advice on what to do to get _my _girl back! _She _understands my past and accepts me for who I am!”

“You never told me about your past.” I grit out. “Not until it was prevalent. Not until you saw I was slipping from your manipulative control.”

“I AM NOT MANIPULATING YOU!” Grant all but roars, punching the wall in display of his dominance. It brings back flashbacks…a man…someone suppose to protect…someone threating within an inch of my life…

_She _chimes in her shrill, whiney, voice.

“If you had given him a chance, maybe worked things out…”

“If you didn’t seduce and sleep with my boyfriend, then, there may be something to work out. But now…” I laugh with no emotion; eyes void like the hole in my soul.

“Now, you can keep his cheating ass. We are done.” He sputters out angry nonsense following her shrill gasp. She attempts to rectify the friendship, slowing digging her grave with, “If I had been more attentive, he wouldn’t have sought her out.” He screams in my face, belittling, attempting to persuade using violence rather than the sweet words I fell in love with. She begins to join the fray, backing up his words, rubbing salt into the wounds. They blame me for the fallout, that had I not cheated, then this would be a different conversation.

“He’s a fucking friend!” I hiss, gathering a few personal belongings from the room. He hisses louder than she, throwing the phrases I hear in the back of my mind: you should be skinnier, should be in shape, should meet the sexual demands of my partner, should stop being depressed, should try to look sexier/dress scantily (or with confidence as he puts it). Each is a blow to the fragile ego, chipping away what little self-confidence remains. In a trance-like state, the voices and sounds merge as if screaming behind a thick layer of jello. I say nothing, simply walking toward his dresser in search of my prize. Photos of us, the three of us, of his family litter around various pieces of pipe and trinkets. Looking at them now, it was obvious they had a thing going on well before our conflict, well before there were any issues in the relationship.

I feel his presence behind me, his words screaming, his aura, menacing as I open a specific drawer. Inside, beneath a few articles of clothing, pushed far into the back by old shirts and socks, is an Xbox controller. _My _controller. It was gifted to me, once upon a time, in a cheesy way of asking to be his player two. At the time, the notion was endearing, a unique way that caused my soul to flutter. Now, it is a simple piece of plastic that will look great next to my Xbox at home. I add it to my small pile of loot, walking out the door without looking back.

He continues to yell through the haze, _‘worthless’, ‘don’t know who you are anymore’, _any phrase to stick the knife deeper into the pitfall in my chest. I don’t remember walking out to the car, nor the drive home with white knuckles on the wheel. At some point, I made it up to my apartment with the box of trinkets now sporting a sparkly controller and a few articles of clothing. Keys collapse on the table along with the box, the chill texture of a bottle, a bitter burning down the throat through salted tears. Void, empty, numb, worthless. Another bitter shot to chase the thoughts.

The sun disappears after some time, embracing the apartment into darkness. The world sways through a drunken haze, emotions running from manic giggles to heartbreaking tears. Netflix plays a rerun of a favorite show in the background, attempting to push the bitter silence away.

* * *

“This is the LIFE Derpus!” I cheer, emptying another bottle much to my disappointment. The green dinosaur stuffed animal says nothing in turn, its beady black eyes staring, attempting to communicate. I giggle.

“Yoh are SO right! I don’t need them! Gotta get another one…” The bottle falls astray to the corner, clanking into the six empty bottles. I attempt to stand, giggling as the world spins on its axis. The walk to the kitchen sways with various colors, changing from blistering heat to a shocking chill.

“I shouuullld cut myself off.” A sobering thought breaches through the drunken haze: it is time to cut myself off from the alcohol. If I do not stop, I will mix two liquids of death that dare not be mixed together.

“Sides! Straight from the bottle is where it is at!” Whispers brush past my ear, asking with a sorrowful tone, “Are you suppressing?”

“Of courhse I am not hiding my depress! Yoh are so silly!” The laughter is forced, tense, roughing up my raw throat. It dies slowly, a bitter silence following after, hands grasping the bottom of my shirt like a child.

…

…

…

“I just…dawn’t understand…” Bottle forgotten; I lean against the counter.

“Arewn’t I…good enough? Did I…dooh somethin’?...I just want…” Tears spill down for the zillionth time tonight, burning the dried orbs further. I clutch the stuffed dinosaur to my chest, nestling into its head, looking for comfort.

“I just want lave… I dawn’t want to cry no mores…” Shadows grip at the sorrow like vultures, whispering sweet promises of love and peace for a price…a sweet price that beckons like an addictive drug. My eyes stare blankly at the knife block, each one begging to pick them for the job, to allow blood to shed on them as payment for my sins. I place Derpus on the counter, teleporting somehow to the block. In another blink, a small steak knife weighs heavily in my right hand. Its teeth are ragged, sharp, with little dips and valleys to make the incision slow, painful. Something a dirty sinner such as myself deserves.

_‘Just one cut…nothing serious…just enough to ground…to stop crying…’_

The teeth feel like a gentle caress as it glides across my wrist, following the small indent in the bone. I shudder as a wave of shame brings forth the sins long since forgotten. Alcohol numbs the second incision, the skin peeling back each individual layer slowly.

Then another. _‘Quit your fucking crying. It does you no fucking good.’_

Then another. _‘No one wants a broken **thing**. That’s why no one wants you…’_

Beads of life bubble to the surface, yet the wound remains pink, **_raw_**_. **KeEp GoInG.**_

_One. Two. Again. ‘Why should I even try? It all ends the same…I am not meant to have someone…just a steppingstone…’_

_ One. Two. Again. ‘Just look at yourself. **Pathetic. **The fuck is your problem?’ Drip._

_Again. _Move a little higher, the pain must continue. The sins are not atoned. Start again.

_‘I wish I was useful to **someone.** Aren’t I deserving of love…?’_

** _Slice. _ ** _Again. ‘…I guess not. Barely together. Not pretty. Not **ideal.**’ Drip. **Drip.**_

_ One. Two. Again. ‘No one would miss a broken piece of shit…’ Tears. Drip._

_ **Slice. **Again. ‘That’s all I am…a **useless, broken, piece of shit** **not worth life…not worth living. A waste of space.’**_

_ One. Two. Again. ‘Someone else should have this life…they would benefit being in my place rather than me **waste space**…’ Drip. **Drip.**_

**.Do It.**

**Knife raised, three large gashes in various directions. Throbbing pain, bleeding slits. Paying the price of living, paying the price of sin. **

**KiLl YoUrSeLf.**

**Hands shaking, tears blurring the scenery into one mute color. ** _‘It is for the best…right?’_

_…_

_ …_

_ …_

** _…’I can’t do it’…_ **

The knife is thrown into the skin with a loud clatter; heavy feet drag my weary body to the bathroom. The fluorescent light is too bright; hands reach for the first aid kit off to the right of the sink. Water screams like a waterfall, the shocking temperature breaking through the drunken haze temporarily. Tears flow freely as I wash the cuts, watching with numb fascination as the water tints a petal rose pink. A gentle pat and wrap is all the injuries will receive, pain free ointment is too kind for trash such as I.

_‘The pain will remind me of how I failed and how I should not succumb next time.’_

Some continue to bleed through the wrap, others barely brush the dermal surface. Those will scar. The chill of the floor is nothing compared to the ice within my chest; the shadows loom within the darkened corners of the apartment. They pull and drain, whispering at a distance of a price still owed, to finish the job. I opt to curl up in bed under a mass blanket pile, pulling a few stuffed animals and my phone along with me. 

_‘_

_‘Maybe a story will help cheer me up..’ _Blink. It’s in my hand, background changing to a picture of my sister’s cat pouncing at the phone. A couple of numbers flash across the _missed _and _text _bar, but nothing a couple of swipes and blockage can’t fix. At some point, I had grabbed Derpy from his post within the kitchen, dragging him into my nest.

Derpy snuggles closely in my blanket bundle, my head resting on Butters the giant blue dragon stuffy. Weight and warmth surround me, blocking out the shadows and the night air. Some still linger within, the pain will be evident under my eyes in the morning. But for the moment, I get lost in the user fan fictions of Undertale. Each user tells a story in their own personalized style. Some spin tells of the Swap, Swapfell, or even the Fell clan and their unique integration into society. Others have everyone living under the rule of the host Tale, ruling the roost in an alpha timeline. Some give the characters complexes, others outright racism towards the reader. As the pages turn and tabs continue to open, I am silently grateful to those who create such works. They are inspiring, compelling, distracting from the day to day or simply giving hope for those who need it. The writers…relate, as if reaching out through the words to tell you it will be okay. You will overcome. You will prevail. **_You are worth the love and life no matter your shape, size, background._** The current story blurs as sleep begins to overtake my senses, lulling me into a dream filled sleep of the two skeleton brothers, their adventures, and their missing counterpart.


	2. Chapter 1: The Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the reader finds herself in a predicament. (Chapter Short)

Chapter One: The Abyss

Floating in the expansive darkness feels fitting, like a cold splash of reality. Refreshing in comparison to the plague-ridden nightmares or action-packed dreaming. The quiet is all and nothing, like reality, it exists only if you perceive it to. As I float along my back, staring up into the vast emptiness, various inexplainable questions pass through my mind. The darkness tells no answers yet whispers vaguely through the subconscious.

_‘What is my purpose in life?’ … ‘I don’t think anyone has an answer until they discover it.’_

_ ‘Can I really impact a life before time expires?’ … ‘If I put forth the effort, someone will remember a kindness or action.’_

_ ‘Will I fade into the darkness like the many hidden stars in the sky?’ … ‘Don’t let the darkness take the brightness within. Stay strong like a planet’s light, not a dying fireball.’_

_ ‘Will there be one person who carries my legacy or will it be hidden with time through my electronic paperwork?’ … ‘Time may tell or lost within.’_

_ ‘Will I find someone who will treat me right?’ … ‘There is someone made for everyone so…patience.’_

A quiet hum vibrates within my skull; the ink around absorbs the sound like a soundproof room. These questions are quite common in life, like a midlife crisis level, but…I can’t help it. I need the answers now, the solidarity that I exist…that this life is life and not just a holographic memory of my past. Despite the fear, the void prevents such negative feelings from surfacing, allowing a peaceful existence for once within my life.

_ ‘I may not enjoy the thoughts within the day, but at night…I can break them down without worry. It is a shame that I will not remember this come daybreak.’_

** _(“Would you like to?”)_ **

“!” I swing my head in either direction, finding it rather fruitless as the ink blocks everything. To make sure, I attempt to wave my hand in front of my face…Nothing. A chuckle echoes, like a channel attempting to break through the static in a storm. It causes the hairs to raise along the back of my neck, the temperature of the air chilling.

**(“You are a rather strange creature, coming to the void willingly.”)**

The voice sounds closer now, the deep garbles coming in a touch cleaner. A cool wisp brushes by, displacing the neutrality for a fraction. My face scrunches up in intrigue and fear. _‘What is it saying?’_

**(“Forgive me my dear. You will not understand what I am saying.”)**

_‘I think…it is trying to communicate with me?’_ I hum, craning my memory in a poor attempt to identify.

_ ‘A mix of maybe Latin and…computer?’_

“I…I am sorry that I can’t understand you…” The voice sighs, the garble quiet, wispy like an autumn breeze. A flash of something comes to mind…a face? It looks distorted, discolored, as though it is coming through a poor reception. It looks familiar somehow, but where?

A brush of cool air behind my neck startles the living daylights out of me; my scream lost to the void. My eyes dart within the darkness as though it would magically clear. My breath comes out rapidly, heart beating deftly in my ear.

“Not cool!” I whine, crossing my arms in a huff. The voice chuckles, closer, the pitch deeper. They garble something quietly under their breath, the words flowing at a quick pace. It begins with one cool finger-like trail resting delicately on my shoulder. Feeling anything in the void feels amplified; a simple cool cube suddenly freezing, a gentle brush alighting the nerves. It gives me a moment to adjust, watching, calculating. I give the darkness a nod, allowing the figure to carefully wrap its fingers around my shoulders. It seems to sigh in relief, giving a gentle squeeze of my right shoulder. The stranger’s touch is foreign, something I should be afraid of. Yet, I lean back into the cold body, coming into contact with an ice feeling wall. Tears threaten to trickle down my face as a wave of emotions cross; I wonder… if these are my own or the beings? The same distorted face flashes to mind again, a faint trace of a black smile breaking across the white/grey surface. Purple flashes under the figure as though glowing from the positive reactions.

“You must be all alone in this place huh? Looking for something to continue living…I know the feeling.” It remains quiet, the only indication of it listening is the slight pressure. It feels as though it is trying to comfort, rubbing small circles with its supposed thumb. I sigh.

“Do you ever…wish things were different?” A hum resonates behind.

“I often wonder…why do I exist in a place where people do not love me. Where I try so hard only to fall apart. I mean…look at me…” I hold a hand towards where I deem my face is, as though examining the newly given scars. The cold brushes down my arm, grazing the bandage lining. It does not hurt the new wounds, rather, it feels akin to a healing balm.

“I can only harm to stabilize. How long will it take before it isn’t enough? Before one cut turns into death?” It huffs, returning its hand back to my shoulder with a squeeze. It mumbles something in my ear. Despite the language barrier, the words are encouraging, warm, radiating from somewhere deep within. I smile, laying my arm back down.

“Thank you for…well, listening and such. I wish I could see you, but I know this is only a dream.” I sigh. It mumbles something under its breath, giving a little cough to clear its throat. Words flow out of the darkness, changing from a light static to a deep timbre. Symbols float within the void despite the darkness, flashing as its voice becomes louder, clearer.

**“****Let us begin****.”** The cold begins to seep through my being, the temperature frigid, chilling. It snakes across my skin, digging deeper, infusing itself through the blood, muscles, skin, _soul._ I struggle against the cold, but it holds fast, the weight heavy, pressing. The temperature begins to increase, frigid, cold, lukewarm, warm, hot, _scalding._ Flesh feels as though it is going to curl away, muscles spazzing under the inferno conditions. Screams rip through my throat, begging, pleading, wishing for death, wishing for the fire to stop. Gasping; there is not enough air getting in. The air entering sears, filling the lungs with smoke and fire. Liquid drips down my face, the origin unclear through the blazing white-hot pain. Something claws desperately at my sockets, at my mind, pulling everything in every direction. The thumping behind my ribs breaks the bone, screaming in utter protest as it attempts to keep the body alive. Something digs deep, clawing, searing, _imprinting, _on something vital. Something superseding the metaphysical plane.

_‘This is it! This is how I die!’ _Something explodes within my chest; my lungs caving as the muscle disintegrates. Through iron stained lips, I shudder one final breath, falling still into the blackness. It is still for a moment while my brain attempts to shut down, eyes scanning for something that no longer exists. Time is slow, painful, dragging on the final moments of life.

Then, it all comes rushing back. The heat, the pain, it disappears into the void. Breathing comes easily, causing my body to convulse with need, gasping in large quantities of air. The heart begins to thump painfully within my chest, the rhythm slow despite the near-death experience. Muscles feel fluid, lean; my throat smooth as though I was not screaming mere moments ago. The darkness does not appear to feel thick anymore, rather, more like a film grain placed in front of a screen. It is enough light to see my form, but nothing else; a deep hum rings through the darkness. It garbles behind quietly, its voice no longer hidden by the static. It still continues to speak in its native tongue, but I can understand its implications.

_“Breathtaking…” _A blush breaks across my face, a groan slips through my lips. It chuckles, giving a slight cool ruffle to the top of my head.

_“It is time for you to go and…give the boys my love.” _

“What are you…” Something hits hard against the back of my head, the void falling away along with my subconscious.

* * *

A gentle breeze brushes against my bare skin, causing a shiver through my being. Everything from the numbing sensation within my feet to the tip of my head aches, like I lost a fighting match with a brick wall. The arm coiled under my head tingles painfully at its restricted flow, making it as limp as a noodle. I use my other hand to make a grab at my blanket only to come up empty. My groan curls into a whine as another cool breeze caresses my body.

_‘Great … it is out of reach… Means I actually have to get up.’ _

I struggle to sit upright, the world spinning even from behind my eyelids. Nausea threatens to spill from my throat, but I bite it back with a groan. The pounding within my head makes it difficult to remember the dreams from the night before; the television murmuring in the background doing nothing to help that.

_‘This fuckin’ headache…What was that dream about again? The void? Maybe Undertale related…’ _A mixture of trash, floral notes, and grease stick to the air like honey; the latter causing my stomach to growl unsexy-like.

_‘Did I leave my window open again? ... Did I even eat last night?’ _My stomach growls in protest again.

_‘I guess not. Damn, that smell is fantastic and isn’t causing my stomach to roll. I should probably grab it to eat then decide what to do for the day.’ _A yawn slips past my lips, arms stretching high with some protest. One or two pops come from the shoulders, but otherwise the feeling remains unsatisfactory. I rub my sockets, wincing as a bit of dried debris brushes the inflamed thin skin.

_‘Must’ve cried myself to sleep again. I feel so gross.’ _The overwhelming smells, mainly the trash, attempts to upheave stomach acid, but I manage to hold it down. The convulsions coupled along with dry heaving brings a new set of tears to which I quickly swipe away. Before anything else occurs with my body, I open my eyes. The world spins and sways through a blurry curtain; a deep throb rolls another wave of nausea and pain. I grit through it, holding fast to the scenery around. I blink.

_‘I must still be dreaming.’ _Close eyes, count to ten, reopen.

_‘I really need to wake up otherwise I will mess my sleep schedule up…’ _Close eyes, count to ten, reopen. Fear turns my blood cold; the world suddenly becomes livelier, brighter, _louder_.

_‘This…this can’t be real…! There is no way…!’ _I curl into myself, drawing my knees up to my chest. My fingers thread through my hair, giving a sharp tug...the sounds of laughter and music remain. Another tug, the smell of trash rolls through once more with underlying notes of grease. A breath shutters out of my lungs; my body shaking like a leaf.

_‘Just breathe…breathe…there you go…look around. See where you’re at.’_

I scamper forward with as much grace as a newborn doe, falling just enough out of the alley to see the neon sign on the building. Small debris bite into my palms and knees, but the pain is nothing compared to the utter shock lighting my face. The street is lined like a shopping district or restaurant district: various buildings close together with minimal space between each to allow garbage through. A few signs illuminate the pathways with a faint glow, each shimmering with a unique light. Little shrubs dotted with various colors match the theme of the light hanging above, their petals glittering like small stars. A few buildings remain dark, residential apartments most likely. Streetlights glow with a faint cornflower yellow, illuminating the basic stale grey concrete and black tar. Darkness encases the night sky with brilliant white gold stars and a vibrant pearl moon. A few car lights fly by, their tires quiet against the nearly unblemished pavement.

The music on my right hums through the rust red brick building, the faint hint of grease wafting through the air. A tangerine orange light caresses the front of the building; the shadows of various patrons lit by a soft amber glow within. A small group of humans open the door, releasing a wave of jazz music into the night air. One of them appears to say something, eliciting a cheer through the crowd. It is only then do the puzzle pieces click into place. The grease smell, the cheer of patrons, the orange glow of a neon sign…

_‘Grillbys. Holllyyy shit! I am at the legendary Grillbys! Thee Grillbys that people describe as the best tasting burgers in their existence! That must mean…!’_ My breath catches in my throat, a trill of fear and wonder coursing up my spine.

_“Monsters…”_

Various monsters maneuver along the pathways, some sliding, some bipedal, some quadrupedal, hell, even some flying! There are simplistic, furry, sleek, smooth, complicated, overly decorated, underdressed, sexualized, and…ew…Jerry. I feel my face crinkle in disgust, eyes watching the lumpy, smelly creature waddle by.

_‘Nobody likes Jerry.’_ As if sensing the thought, said lumpy creature looks around, muttering things to himself. His squinty eyes glance as thin cracked lips mutter under the wind. An indescribable smell appears to float around the creature, the scent stronger than putrid waste. It takes a lot of energy not to hurl at its very presence. Thankfully, another monster rushes by in an attempt to not be spotted by said creature. Jerry garbles out a slew of words, his little body filled with trash and fudge attempts to scamper on stubby oblong feet in chase. I release a held breath, a near-miss chill shaking my body.

_‘I would have committed literal suicide if that thing got anywhere near me…reality or not.’_

I lean against the opening of the alleyway, the bricks biting yet cool against my back. The thin nightshirt selected did nothing to hinder the fall chill, the similarly made fabric for pants containing numerous wet spots and tares not helping the cause. Something within whines, clenching both mind and body in nervous anticipation. Monsters and humans alike walk by the alley with little to no interest, too engrossed in conversation to take note of a new soul. To those who notice, their face pulls either in sneer or worry; monsters showing more worry than their human counterparts.

_‘At least this looks to be a monster-friendly district or, at the very least, an integrated district.’ _I close my eyes with a sigh, head resting gently against the brick.

_‘I wonder how long they have been on the surface? If the fanfictions are anything to go by, it has been at least a year to establish businesses.’ _I hum.

_‘It is really cool…I will admit, but… **how did I get here**?’ _Nothing is adding up from the events to the present moment: a wish, darkness, then a new universe.

_‘Even if Sans and his multiverse theory is the explanation, it does not explain how I am in this alleyway and not his house with the machine. Even in some cases, the stories indicate the anomalies come through the machines or in a repeat pattern up until a reset. And I am pretty sure I was never in this universe to begin with to give any plausible way of getting here.’_

The air feels cold, crisp, **_tightening_**. Everything feels like lead; limbs pulled by an invisible magnet to prevent escape. There is a ringing somewhere in the distance, sharp, **_piercing,_** it needs to shut up. It needs to go away.

**_‘Like you in this universe. It is nothing but pure fiction and does not exist in reality.’ _**The ringing increases volume, the sharp chalkboard sound demanding to be heard over the crowd of people. Weights hold my eyelids down, preventing sight, refusing to see what is the new, true reality.

_ ‘I wanted a new life and this place is truly magical’ _Someone laughs within, the voice similar to my own_. _

_‘**A new life in this universe is nothing but a fictitious dream. And if it is real? Why would anyone want an anomaly such as yourself when your own world did not?’ **_

**_‘It is nothing more than a lucid dream. Grow up.’ _** …

_‘If this is a dream, then, I shouldn’t be able to feel extreme levels of pain…which means the pain will wake me up…right?’_ It is a struggle to open my lids, the weights refusing to give any leeway without a fight. Once open, I eye the bandages covering both forearms, the left stretching higher than the right. The fight to lift one cold, numb arm proves difficult and takes a few moments to get at least the fingers to flex. Once there is the minimal movement required, I slash my nails across the left bandage. The first time there is no pain only a mild irritation. The second gains a wince but nothing more. The third, fourth, fifth…slowly the pain escalates to near unbearable, the bandages looking worse for wear. Some of the fabric falls away in the frantic scratching, revealing angry welts beneath. Barely closed with a thin layer of skin, puffy and red from constant abuse, it takes one last slash to provide an ample amount of pain.

I grit my teeth as a hiss escapes through the cracks, the pain worse than the act of inflicting the wounds. The spot ignites in a heated rash while a thin stream trickles down to the concrete. I watch the stream for a moment, waiting for the scenery to fall into darkness.

_‘Any minute now…and I will wake up in my ratty apartment, neighbors screaming as usual.’ _The smells do not disappear; the chatter of civilians lively as ever. The blood pumps in time with the beat of my heart, the flow increasing at its increase.

_‘Anyyyyy minuteee nowww.’ _Another chorus of cheers ring heartily through Grillbys; another couple walks by whispering under their breaths. My heart beats with increasing fear against the sternum, tears gathering as anxiety takes ahold of the mind.

_‘A…any m... minute…now…’ _Panic floods through rational thoughts, denial and disbelief dancing through the storm. The world blurs but not with darkness, rather, with the tears dripping from my eyes. Air refuses to enter my lungs fast enough and what little that does **_burns._** Tremors run through in a fevered panic; my heart thumps erratically against a heavy weight settling on top of it. There is a tugging sensation at my scalp…oh it’s my hands. Surely more pain will get me out of this wonderful dream, right? A manic sob hiccups out of my throat, knees buckling into each other.

_ ‘This cannot be real…this is only seen in fiction…I only read about this…monsters cannot be real…This makes no sense…Where am I? Why am I here? Please someone…Stop me… PleaseIdon’tunderstandIneedtoknowWhyisthishappeningIcan’t…!’ _

A figure opens the back door of their establishment, eyes scanning for the abnormal hum. Something called to the owner’s daughter, a sense of unease settling deep within, leading, **_calling._** She hums under her breath, glancing around in the dimly lit alley. The sound of the soul is deafening here, shivering and shaking as it cries in obvious panic. How the other patrons did not hear it she is unsure, but now is not the time to think such things. A shadow of a figure sits at the apex of the alleyway, a halo-like glow emitting from its chest. They whimper and sob along with their soul; it’s soul pushes against some sort of encasement, struggling, fracturing, **_screaming. _**Fuku takes a tentative step forward, the glow of her flames casts an eerie aura. Her hand stretches outward, trembling.

**_“…Excuse me?...” _**The figure does not answer her, clutching its head as a hiccup shakes their frame. Their soul cries again as if it is on fire, as if something is attacking it. She takes another step, her glow casting onto the figure. A startling gasp parts her flames, panic and worry unsettle her soul. The woman looks small like a child, their form tattered to shreds. Blood drips down their bent arm, wrapping around like a snake of sin. Her skin is pale, ashen, as if made of paper rather than flesh. Her hair is in every which way; there is too much trash to determine the true coloration. Fuku watches with increasing worry as the female tugs at the strands against her scalp.

_‘I need to get help!’ _She takes one last glance at the female before darting back inside, screaming something as she departs.

**_“DAD!” _**The door swings close after her figure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for such a late posting of the next chapter! I have finals coming up and am working a lot leaving little time to de-stress and write. Thank you to everyone commenting/bookmarking/leaving kudos or even just visiting the story. I will do my best to make every reader proud, hanging on the edge of their seats as many have done for me (all in good ways of course).  
Also I am upset I could not get the wingdings to work :<  
~Cheers~


	3. Chapter 2: Fuku

**Chapter 2: Fuku**

_‘Fire. Fire engulfs every nerve, every sensor, destroying, rebuilding, resetting. The world is bright. The world is dark. Why can’t there be a light forever? Where am I? Why does it hurt? Please make the hurt go away! I promise to be better! I promise! Just… please just stop! What did I do?!’_

Claw. Scratch. Dig. **_Pain. _**It is** never** enough**. Grip. Dig. Bleed. **It will** never be enough. **

**Pull. Rip. Bleed. **When will it** end? **This **_cycle. _**

**Cut. Not deep enough. Weak. **This **_life. _I cannot exist. **

**Pathetic. Worthless. Fracturing.** It is** unreal. Fictional. Blood. I must BLEED.**

**…{Help me…}**

** …{Somebody please…}**

**I M.U.S.T D.I.E {Save me…}**

A force slams my face to the side, shaking the eternal darkness, deep fissures rip the surface. I gasp, clawing for air, clawing for _something. _Another blow, another tare in the unstable environment.

_‘Is…is someone trying to get my attention? Is someone…trying to **help me**?’ _The darkness claws, grasps, begs, defends…but it is no match for the driving force behind those hits. The walls rumble in protest, a whine slips through the air as flecks of tar fall from the wall. Small strips of tangerine orange slip through the cracks, the beams create an illuminated focal point.

_‘Somebody is…!’ _The darkness grabs at any flesh it can get its hands on, struggling to hold fast. Claws surge and dig, grasping at something deep within yet it slips away at the last second. A newfound feeling surges within my chest, cracking the walls along with the orange light. Tears roll as I run towards the light, hand outstretched. The darkness makes one last crack with a hiss; it knows it has been defeated. The light sparkles like a beacon as my hand encases it, warmth flooding my person as I ascend to the waking world.

Campfire crackles tickle the edge of my ears, teasing them with the first sense of sensory. Footsteps, hushed voices, and music arises from the dream-like fog…the ambience of the night slowly come into focus shortly after. Something comfortably warm, gentle, and rather large encases a fraction of my body. The warmth smells unusual: a hint of cedar wood swirled with plumes of smoke and an underlying hint of fryer grease. It is not unpleasant, however, it does nothing to hide the putrid smell of rotting rubbish, fermenting alcohol, and bodily waste.

“I think I am going to throw up.” The warmth changes its location a second before acid spills from my lips, everything regurgitating up like a sick animal. Something pulls stray dirty strands away from the projectile while the other rubs warm circles in an attempt to calm the tremors. A quiet voice mumbles something akin to a coo in between heaves; my whimpering apologies follow shortly before another round. Everything hurts from the organs spewing everything onto the pavement to a deep throbbing across my body. It takes a moment longer for the acid to stop, and a few more for the dry heaves to pass.

_‘Bloody hell…not even an hour into this…**place** and I am already a mess. At least someone is nice enough to help a stranger…’_ A sexy helping of tears and snot attempt to wipe scum off my face; dumpster smelling strands of hair sticks to a healthy dose of sweat. Caked blood and sewage stuck to the skin cracks as I shift, peeling and ripping the hair attached to it. Something deep within throbs angrily; the weight of the pain sits like a brick on my chest. I do not have to look in a mirror to know I look like absolute trash.

_‘…Especially with the dragged-from-hell look I must be sporting…’_

**_“…are you all right young one…?”_** A deep timbre vibrates, the tone quiet yet strong. Their words crackle in various places akin to a fire splintering logs. It crackles harder at the end of the sentence as though the person rarely uses their voice. I take a chance at opening my lids, wincing as the skin pulls away from the crusted lashes. The world spins with a bit of blur for a moment, threatening another round of dry heaving. The first look into the world is the sight of my undesirable waste along with dirt caked clothing. I would go into detail but…the color, the _smell_, it might as well have come from a decomposing corpse set in an Arizona desert during summer.

“I…I’m…f…fine…” I croak, readjusting away from the death smelling pile much to the pleasure of my stomach. I slowly turn to the kind stranger, a small smile forming through cracked lips.

“T…than..k…” My eyes widen, mouth falling unattractively open. Grillby sits within a few inches, hand retracting to fetch something on his person. Magical fire flickers like real flames across his body, caressing pronounced muscles along his physique. The coloration does not do it justice however; instead of a bright, sunshine orange, it resembles close to molten lava. Thick, moving strands of deep, burnt tiger orange intermingle with liquid amber gold, occasionally switching to dance with a garnet red. A black vest contours his broad shoulders down to his narrow, yet firm, torso. A white dress shirt blossoms beneath, the collar held in pristine condition with a pressed black bow. His sleeves, normally cuffed around his wrists, curl protectively around his biceps. The flames dance and contract like a human muscle, giving them a defining muscular crease. And his face…!

_‘No wonder there are some who write fan fictions about Grillby…He’s…**WOW!**’_

Grillby tilts his handsomely chiseled head, flame brows raising above the rims of his square frames. Gold almond eyes remain wide despite the inquiry, examining, calculating the situation. A deep blush warms my face as I advert my gaze, taking the outstretched object with a small, “Thank you”. He does not ask questions as I wipe away the bile, nor does he ask as he carefully extends a hand for the soiled object. We sit in silence for a beat longer, the jazz music from within humming quietly in the background. I do not dare look up at the elemental in fear of his gaze…will he judge even after all of this?

_‘Will he question? Ask where my home is? What will he do if I were to tell him I have no home? Will he take me in or will there be a price? What if **Sans **finds out I am here…?’ _A foreboding feeling worms up my spine, chilling everything it touches.

“How is she doing Dad?” A feminine voice floats on the wind, her words filled with far less crackling. The jazz music raises in volume, but holds no match to the voices conversing within the establishment. I carefully pull my gaze away from the tatters covering my lap and nearly gape in awe. Fuku stands within the golden beams of light, giving the already beautiful elemental an otherworldly glow. Emerald and seafoam roll across her like the ocean, occasionally bumping into little spots of snowflake white at the apex of the flames. Fuku wears a similar getup like her father with a few variations in the style: Sleeves shortened to a t-shirt length, bowtie around her delicate, slender wrist, and a fetching black skirt showing off her shapely, athletic legs. One of the buttons on her shirt remains open, revealing a small v-valley, similar to a teaser before a show.

“ ‘m…f…fine…” A dry, ragged cough pummels its way through, attempting to start dry heave round two. I nip the rolling feeling in the bud, gritting my teeth in embarrassment.

“You poor thing…let me get you something to drink…” Fuku disappears into the noise, shutting the door quietly behind her. Ambient noise pushes over the jazz; crickets chirp in the distance, a faint breeze rustles the leaves of a few trees, people converse as their shoes hit the concrete in a steady _‘tap’ ‘tap’ _rhythm.

**_“…If I may ask…”_** I glance at the elemental from my peripheral, fatigue and fear weighing heavily on my shoulders. My hands clench and unclench the remaining fabric from my shirt, nerves causing my body to shift awkwardly. He appears to ponder for a second, choosing his words wisely. As if he is approaching a scared, feral animal.

_‘He is not far from the truth at this point…’_

**_“…How did you get here…?” _**I look away, staring at the floor as though it holds all the answers. My jaw opens and closes like a gaping fish, attempting to give some sort of half-truth answer without revealing anything.

_‘_ _‘I can’t let him know of my preexisting knowledge of this world or of its inhabitants…Faking amnesia might be the best idea in this case. Or can Grillby tell if I am lying? I know Sans can but he expects an answer…should I just tell him the truth? Will it make me appear crazy?’_

** _‘No shit. If anything, telling him, “I know this is going to sound strange, but I am not of this universe” will get you swiftly locked up. Idiot. Lie to save your skin until you can get out of here.’_ **

“I…” Tears inch into the world, blurring the scene with salty bubbles. “I…don’t…” A hiccup. A wince. Curl in. _Hide._ The world is unsafe. They will not accept. They will reject. An _anomaly_…

**_“…Say no more…young one…”_** Something warm brushes the apex of my skull, petting the wild, monstrous strands down. It is soothing, emitting a kindness not felt since…

_‘That was a long time ago…No need to revisit…’_

“You poor thing…” Fuku’s motherly voice coos. My body jolts in fear at her sudden appearance, a whimper escapes my throat. Had it not been for Grillby’s hand, I would have reflexively curled inward. Away from the kindness…away from the sad, prodding eyes…

“Sorry…I did not mean to startle you.” She makes a little extra noise this time, waiting a beat before carefully setting a cup of something warm on my lap. The steam wafts a strong salty ocean smell, the salt mixing with a bitter green tea smell. The color itself is strange: a mixture of teal, moss green, and something unexplainably dark. My nose reflexively scrunches in disgust causing both her and her father to chuckle.

“That is Sea Tea and, although it tastes like absolute trash, it will make you feel well enough to move.” Fuku explains simply, squatting down to match her father’s level. Onyx eyes crinkle, crushing the perfectly smooth flames into lines of worry. Her hands play with the hem of her skirt, yet her gaze is patient, cautious, as though waiting for something else.

_‘Well…here goes everything.’ _Taking one final breath, I plunge the salty smelling liquid down my throat. The saltiest potato chip, a cookie where sugar is replaced with salt, a nice gulp of ocean spray, hell, just the sandy depts, coat my palette, drying yet hydrating as it slips down my throat. It takes everything within my will not to drop the cup or spew it onto the pavement along with the rest of my bile. As quickly as the salty brine hits the stomach, it dissipates into nothing, leaving a pleasant aftertaste of citrus and mint.

_‘Holllyyyy shitttt! It literally disappeared! And it only sucked for like what? Ten seconds?! This stuff is truly revolutionary! Surpassing modern medicine and its thick nonsensical tastes!’_

“Never had monster food I take it?” Fuku giggles, her hand politely covering the grin threatening to overtake her face. Grillby’s shoulders bounce, his hand in a similar position as he looks away. A few crackles slip between the cracks; a golden smile cracks around his hand despite the effort. The smile that forms is involuntary; a child-like wonder blooms with bubbling questions.

“No never! I mean how does it work? I know it is magic but how?! This literally could solve so many problems in just a little bit!” A giddy feeling overrides any sense of urgency or panic; my fingers play with the cup as though it holds the answers to the questions.

“Magic is so cool…!” The elementals share a knowing gaze; a silent conversation. Green fingers gently pry away the ceramic, the touch warm, gentle.

“Glad you get to experience it firsthand…although…Sea Tea is hardly that impressive.” She chuckles as she stands, careful not to disturb her father’s stance.

“I hope you will join me…I’m sorry. I forgot to ask your name!” Fuku blushes a beautiful emerald green, a look of embarrassment crosses her features. I blink up at her, the notion completely absent from my mind.

_‘Of course, they would want to know my name! …I should give them my real name…It is only fair…’_

“____. Thank you for your help.” I tilt in an awkward half bow, hiding the embarrassment on my face.

“F…Fuku! And this is my father, Grillby. Please, no need to be so formal!” Her speech crackles, an accent once forgotten slips through. From southern descent maybe?

“A…anyway! Come back to my room when you both are done conversing! I should have some things that will fit you.” I give her a meek nod; fingers bunch the torn fabric, the only thing I have to tie myself to my universe…the correct universe…right…? Fuku gives an affirming hum, her steps silent as she departs. Jazz music extends into the alleyway along with a glimmer of light; a few excited monsters catcall the sweet flame as the door closes.

_ ‘Fuku is truly a soul of kindness: Sweet, innocent, with the right bit of teenage mischief. There is very little mention of her in writings and the artwork is typically the same style. Nothing could depict her true self, even if I attempt to write it myself!’ _A frown extracts the previously felt joy; worry gnaws at my lip.

_‘But this situation does leave me in a bit of a situation…’_

** _‘What was your first clue idiot? Anything he offers you should reject.’_ **

** _“…young one…”_ **

_‘But what if it helps? What if by accepting it, I will be able to go home sooner.’ _The voice scoffs, a deep feeling of animosity pools within my mind.

**_‘Please. No amount of help will get you any closer to home nor will it help fix your broke ass. The longer you stick around, the more questions will be asked of you. It is best to just leave and never come back._**’

** _“…____...?”_ **

_ ‘You are right… I may alter the timeline. My presence is likely no coincidence, yet, something feels **wrong **with me being here. Like I know I **do not belong **yet…I cannot help but think this is **where I belong.**’_

** _‘You belong nowhere. Your existence is nothing more than faulty. Even your parents…’_ **

“!” I whip my head up to the elemental, a deep realization flush overtakes my features.

_‘Well if he didn’t think I was mental before, he sure as hell will now…’_

“I…I am sorry. Did you say something?” To the untrained eye, Grillby looks calm, collected, his gaze in constant observation mode. Deep within his features, a crinkle knits the sides of his eyes; a gentle smile is careful with worry teasing the corners.

**“That is…quite all right…Young one…do you…have a place…to call…home?” **A laugh escapes without warning, a flood of emotion threatens to overtake the mask. Something within _‘thuds!’ _painfully against my sternum as if crying foul. A hand finds its way to the location, gripping the fabric above the pain as if it would do any good. Even to my own ears, the laughter sounds manic, of someone on the verge of collapsing.

Through the fit of laughter, I fail to notice the harsh gaze of the elemental, checking the source of the pain.

“O…of course! Who…doesn’t have a place…to call…home!” Another harsh hit limits the giggles to a solid _“Oof!” _The space between us is tense, thick, waiting for something to break, waiting for something to **_shatter._**

**_“…Do not lie…young one…” _**His voice is hard, absolute, with no room for negotiation. Grillby lived through the monster-human war once upon a time, so it makes sense he would gain some sort of lie detecting power. Perceptive as ever, the elemental watches every twitch, every movement, calculating, creating a profile. He may not know the backstory or how I came to the alleyway, but he expects the truth and nothing else.

**_‘You better keep your fucking mouth shut you useless bitch.’_** The voice hisses through the hysteria, pinching, biting, reminding.

“Nothing gets by you…” I sigh, threading my fingers nervously through the nest. It snags a good number of knots; the pain grounds my existence, my thoughts, painting reality and ejecting the dreamscape. A deep sigh rumbles my chest as I unthread from the nest.

_‘Still not a dream…’_

“No…I do not have a place to call home…I have been on my own for as long as I can remember.” Grillby is silent a moment, his gaze unwavering.

**_“…come…” _**Grillby stands, extending a hand. His word is short yet holds no malice, his hand outstretched promises comfort with no prying questions for the moment. It promises food, shelter, and someone to be there when needed most. A parental figure, a sturdy column of support, a **_friend._**

**_‘Don’t do it!’ _**Pain. A voice, it growls. When was the last time I was safe? When I didn’t need…

I gingerly take the hand, pleasantly surprised at the warmth it radiates. There is no malice coursing through his flames, no doubt, nothing negative towards his intentions. They are pure, whole-hearted, wanting to help rather than seeing it as a chore. I tilt my gaze to the floor, watching as bare and shoed feet walk through rubble and slime. Concrete to polished wood, cold, bitter air to a delicate heat. Whispers of those passing turn to loud, rambunctious; those filled with laughter, mirth, **_love. _**Grateful tears silently drip as I exchange hands; the sound of reassurance, of glasses clinking together as bottles mix.

…When was the last time I felt **_love_**?...

“You know, I think you will like it here. At the bar I mean.” Fuku hums, carefully coaxing me along. The household is dark for the most part; monsters, from a quick conclusion, have excellent night vision.

“My dad is the coolest ever! Ever since coming to the surface, he has only improved his culinary techniques! We didn’t have much in the way of ingredients in the Underground, but he made magic (no pun intended) out of literally nothing!” She sighs contently.

“I really hope that I can follow in even greater shoes than him...Right now, everyone just knows me as ‘Grillby’s daughter’. I want to make a name for myself you know?” Fuku gasps, embarrassment crackles her voice.

“Listen to me ramble about nonsense! Let us get you a shower and some clean clothes!”

Fuku gingerly removes her hand in order to open the last door on the second floor. Immediately I wince as bright, filtered light extends into the darkness.

“Come on in _____.” I hesitantly enter the fire elemental’s room, eyes observing the little details that make Fuku…well…Fuku. She has a passion for sunny yellow sunflowers it appears, if the walls painted sky high, her bed spread, and an actual sunflower arrangement is anything to go by. The hardwood from the hallway follows in, but it appears as though she attempted to cover some of it with a thick, plush rug. It sits center of the room, expanding its circular rings attempting to reach the borders of the vertical walls. It is brightly colored like something found in the 1960’s of my time with three flower stem green beanbags.

A giant arched window attempts to illuminate the room with the moonlight, but the ceiling fan blocks it out with artificial yellow-white light. Beautiful satin curtains hang on either side of the bed, the royal blue held up by an intricate golden bar. Glancing away, I note a laptop half opened to the left, the device hissing as it rests in sleep mode. Sunflower stickers cover the pastel blue device; a matching mousepad houses a green wireless mouse. The chair itself is covered in various blankets and clothing, a stark messy contrast to the otherwise clean room.

“School just started recently and has been pretty hectic.” She rubs the back of her head; a faint glow pinches her cheeks. I nod mutely, observing in both awe and wonder.

“I understand.” She nods, a grateful smile softens her features.

“We should probably get you something that doesn’t smell like sewage.” I wince, wrapping my arms around the dirty material. It is all I have left of my universe…The only indication that where I was and where I am are two separate locations. Worry paints my mind and soul; the seed of fear gnaws at my lower lip.

_‘If I get rid of these, does it mean I can never go back? Maybe they are a key to going back? Kind of like having a token from your timeframe to focus…?’_ Fuku winces; she spins her frame towards the closet, attempting to focus on the task at hand. She makes various whispers and crackles under her breath as she rummages through, brows knit in concentration.

“The clothes…they mean a lot to you huh?” I sigh.

“They are the only thing I own…” It does not take a genius to know the elemental is in shock. Her frame remains frozen for a beat, a hand dropping an article of clothing back to the floor. Fuku manages to shake herself out of it, her words gentle, delicate.

“I will ask my dad if he can patch them up after a wash. If not, we can always take it to Muffet’s and have her create something new from it. She would be excited to have more human clients anyway.” She mumbles the last part under her breath, but I manage to catch it anyway. My brows furrow, a frown displacing my features.

_‘Although I would love to have her fix my clothes, I have no currency. And if everything I have read about her is true, she is a real stickler for money.’_

“It might be a little big on you, but it should be comfortable to wear in the meantime.” She shuts the door behind her, her other hand holding onto two different objects. They are…quite plain if I am completely honest. It is a stark contrast to her bright and bubbly personality: a pigeon blue something and some heather grey something, though the grey looks thinner. She carefully hands them over. They slide like silk over my fingertips; the material alone nearly causes a moan of delight.

_‘These have got to be some of the softest material I have ever felt in my life!’_

“T…thank you. You really are…a kind soul.” Her face brightens considerably, words spewing out in a flustered, jumbled mess. Fuku mentions something about turning on some music while I shower, quickly shooing my body to the door. A chuckle rumbles my chest as I walk over and in, shutting the wood between us. The smile falls into something more genuine, the scent of lavender and sweetness calming my nerves slightly.

_‘She is as nice as they say if not more so…when was the last time someone was this nice to someone like me…?’_

I sigh through my nose, placing the garments on the stone speckled countertop. The bathroom is simple with a matching color scheme to her bedroom, even including sunflowers on the shower curtain. I twist the shower knob on first, flicking the handle to change the water’s direction. While it warms, I relieve myself, carefully stripping the grimy fabric once I am done. Steam drifts around the room, fogging the edges of the mirror. My glance at the reflection is brief, but it is one of the ugliest sights I have seen in a while. Brunette strands look near black with bits of trash and tar weaving through; deep muddied streaks highlight a nasty hit to the right side of my cheek. It is flushed with a light but angry looking purple. Dark bags sink under my sockets, the blue-purple border grey from the lack of sleep and ample amount of stress. Eyes look lifeless, the coloration dulled by deep red veins and yellow painting the whites.

“Worthless.” My underwear gets a careful wash under the trickling water, the material laid out to dry while I shower. The heat causes a hiss to slip through my lips, the scalding temperature painful and grounding. The water beneath my form turns an ugly shade just like my mind, like my soul, tainting it with the scum of the Earth. Various soaps and shampoos line the little caddy against the back corner; I grab one blindly to begin the battle of cleanliness.

“Breathe ___. What do we know?” The first batch of shampoo rinses away, giving the air an aromatic quality. Sage and Witch hazel.

_‘I am jobless and single.’_ Rinse. Repeat.

_‘I drank myself into a stupor and attempted to kill myself.’_ Still dripping with sludge and grime. Rinse. Repeat.

_‘I went to bed in tears once more and read my favorite fanfictions.’_ The water comes back decently clean, little bubbles dancing around the drain. I place the shampoo back, reaching for the matching conditioner. It feels silky smooth as it glides through my hair; something popping like little soap bubbles along my scalp. Magic perhaps?

_‘There was a dream of darkness and…something else?’_ I poke my head out of the shower, grabbing a packaged disposable razor from the wicker basket. The air is cold despite the steam floating aimlessly within it; the heat shocks my body with a sharp hiss once again. I go through the grooming motions while the conditioner sets, wincing every other stroke. The blades would prefer to eat my skin over the prickly forest called my legs.

_‘The dream feels important, but why don’t I remember it? I remember some pieces, but it is as if someone put a wall up.’_ The pits follow and a nice scrub down of a random soap soon after. It has citrus notes, pulling a memory of a pagan shop visited once upon a time.

_‘Hopefully I will remember later…this will really bug me.’ _

I flick the shower off, remembering to turn the lever back to its original position. The disposable razor gets reclipped and placed next to the new clothing.

_‘If I am to stay here for more than a day or two, shaving will have to be a must and I am not wasting more materials than I have already.’_ A brush and some basic human toiletries sit within the basket as well, all new with various tags and brands stamped across.

_‘She must have a lot of humans come over if there is a dedicated basket for them.’_ I begin cleaning myself up to look at least a quarter of the way presentable, only cursing a few times when the brush snags a particularly bad knot. I refuse to acknowledge my face within the frame, even as the fog begins to dissipate. Instead, I work on looking even remotely presentable for the monster outside. The outfit is thoughtful and comfortable: a long sleeve pigeon blue sweatshirt is a tad form fitting, but the soft material and breathable fibers make it feel less of a deathtrap. The leggings have an intricate pattern stitched alongside the legs: a spiraling vine wrapping around the hips in a bright Egyptian blue. Like the shirt, it fits a little snug to my form, but the softness overrides the nearly painted material. Unfortunately, the underwear refuses to dry, so it joins the sad reject pile of clothing on the floor. As if sensing my thoughts, Fuku’s voice chimes in nearby.

“You can leave the clothes on the floor for now. We can take care of them after hours.” I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off.

“Don’t worry about it and come on out. We can get you some food at the bar and maybe a drink. You are of age, right?” A bright embarrassing red glow covers my face. The door swings back revealing a wider than normal grin on the elemental monster, phone in hand. There is a small _‘click!’_ sound, her smile widening at something on her screen. 

“Fuku!” Said monster lets out a little giggle, fingers curling tight over the touch screen phone. Mischief and playfulness fill the air along with the herbal smells, the combination stirring a strange yet familiar feeling within. Her body is tensing, twitching, waiting for my move.

“Delete it!” I attempt to reason, holding my hand towards her device. Her smile widens if it is even possible, her eyes twinkle with delight. Despite the embarrassment, I feel a smile coming on as well. A challenge holds heavy in the air; my body shutters in anticipation.

“You want to see? Come and get it!” Fuku darts out of her room, door flying open with a resounding _‘BANG!’_ Her laughter fills the halls along with heavy footfall, a couple of crashes are heard in her wake. Laughter bubbles past my lips, a shrill, “YOU ARE SO DEAD!” screeches down the narrow pathway. Her laughter bounces around the halls with vigor, pulling more child-like laughter from my body. My feet nearly catch up with the fire elemental, her voice switching between squeaks and laughter. I cannot help but join along, making failed grabs at her person. Her flames push through a familiar wooden door, allowing light and a chorus of laughter through for a fraction. I follow without a thought, busting through just as she had. A quick survey reveals her position by a drunk bunny monster in the far corner.

“Fuku I swear to Asgore! Delete it!” Her eyes crinkle as she laughs along with a few other patrons, her hand dangling said prize overhead.

“Come make me!” A shit eating grin splinters across my face as I take a step towards her. Then another.

**_“Fuku… that is… quite enough.”_** Grillby crackles. As if a spell breaks, the mischief is gone from the air. Fuku grins sheepishly over at her father, rubbing her other hand behind her head. Every other emotion hit like a truck; embarrassment and shame flush the apples of my cheeks. I spin towards the elemental, giving a deep bow.

“S…sorry Grillby…”

_‘Oh no! I messed up! He is probably mad and oh god I did that in front of all the patrons!’_ Tears threaten to spill, blurring the world around. A deep, rhythmic thump tints the external sounds with its quick pace. Fuku’s arm carefully guides my crestfallen face towards the bar, her words lost among the sea of chatter. There is a pain deep within, cracking, beating, crying…it feels as though it is falling somewhere deep…somewhere dark.

The barstools are comfortable despite having no backs and the leather material appears new. There are questions that wish to push forward, but the darkness refuses, opting to pinch conversation off.

** _F.U.C.K.I.N.G W.O.R.T.H.L.E.S.S_ **

** _ What are you doing? Are you stupid?_ **

** _ Why must you mess everything up?_ **

** _Such a Dumb Child._ **

** _ He will kick you out. Penniless. Worthless. Why?_ **

Something warm tucks beneath my chin, the light and warmth like a fireplace fire. Grillby’s hand pulls upward until we can meet at eye level, but I refuse to look at the disappointment, at the anger.

**_“Do not fret… little one. I am… not mad… at either of… you.”_** Tears threaten to fall over his hand, which, would put this already savior of a monster in harm’s way.

“I…I’m sorry…” He waits a beat before a sigh breaks through his lips.

**_“There is no harm… done and no need… for apologies.”_** With his final words, Grillby releases his hold, returning to the patrons vacating the other stools. I rest my arms on the wooden bar top, burrowing my head in shame.

“He isn’t mad ___. He is just a big softie that worries under all that hot headedness.” Her touch is warm, soft, as it rubs soothing circles between the shoulder blades. Her magic radiates warmth, kindness, like sunshine or a beautiful moment. Its signature is kind in turn, power soft yet strong when put to the test. There is a steady flow beneath her palms akin to a heartbeat, but it feels different somehow. As if her intentions to comfort trickle out in small, static-like waves.

“I know…but I should know better Fuku…” The chair to my left gasps in protest of a body, but I barely acknowledge it under self-loathing. The body’s signature pulses faintly, testing the waters of those around it. It pokes and prods like a curious child holding an ice cube to its fingertips. What is strange about it, however, is there is almost a veil over their signature. While Fuku’s gives indication of her potential, this one holds it like a secret close to the heart. A face comes to mind immediately: white smooth bone, soft yet strained, darkness holding fast the power, to the heart. It is enough to cause a new feeling of dread to override the current predicament.

_‘If it is who I think it is…’_

“as **_fire_** as I know, he just got a little **_hot_** under the collar. he knows you were just **_fueling_** around.” I stiffen, the dulcet tones of his deep, baritone voice sends a trill of fear and excitement. There is little roughness to the smooth words; an underlying double meaning to his joke, a familiar poke, a sharp, knowing gaze…

_‘Please…don’t let it be who I think it is…!’_ It is hard to make out her words through frantic panic, but I manage to catch the words.

“Sans, what would your brother think of you corrupting another human with your awful puns.”

_‘Aw shit…’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Merry Holidays to those who celebrate today and a good morning to those who do not! I was attempting to get both this and A Hell of an Experiment chapter out buuuutttt I only had time this morning for one. I currently am dealing with depression (holiday and life based) as well as working two jobs so I apologize for such a wait! I will try to post the other chapter later today for those looking forward to that!
> 
> On an embarrassing note, I am trying to set up a Tumblr and Patreon: one for fans to communicate easier with me and the other...yeah. I feel even awkward for mentioning it, but! I need to take steps outside of my comfort zone (according to my therapist...)
> 
> Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mystic-wondersatarchiveofourown (this one is for chapter updates)
> 
> Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/user?alert=2 (if this doesn't work, the tag I am going for is The Awkward Writers...please ignore this)
> 
> Good morning everyone :)


	4. Chapter 3: Sansational

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you meet a certain Skeleton

**Chapter 3: Sansational**

The flickering flames of Grillbys did nothing to quell the sudden artic swell in the air, nor did it temper the tense strings puppeteering a familiar skeleton. Ketchup and ocean brine swim over the greasy warm currents with a faint undertone of pine. Bone-like structures click against the polished bar top; the subtle shift of fabric sweeps his unique scent in my direction.

“___?” I lift my head to the friendly elemental, flashing a placid smile.

“Sorry about that Fuku. You were saying?” Her eyes stare deeply into mine, digging, searching for lingering secrets to my behavior. A frown attempts to tug at her pouting lips, but she decides against it.

“I would like to introduce you to my father’s long-time friend.” She gestures to the left, a silent signal for the figure to perform basic introductions.

_‘Well…this is it! The skeleton of so many fan fictions, to some dreams, and sin.’_

I take a steading breath, willing my frozen body to twirl on the stool. Immediately his overwhelming scent attacks my own, imprinting, as if catching the moment in a photo. Sans looks, well…I guess how one would think an anatomical skeleton would look if it came to life. His skull is an oddly circular yet oval with two large ocular sockets, a button-like nose, and a perma-grin that stretches half of his face. The bone coloration isn’t as shiny or pristine as some describe: it is more of a pearlescent light grey with minimal black fractures through its being. Dark grey prints rest above the nasal cavity, an imprint of his glasses I’ll bet. A similar shade of charcoal grey brushes beneath both sockets as if someone painted them on and then accidentally dipped in a similar purple-grey shade. Two dime sized eye lights stare ahead, their knowing gaze assessing in a similar fashion.

“H…hi. I’m ___ but you probably already know that.” I flush, sticking my hand out in an awkward greeting. Sans takes a moment, staring a little too long for comfort at my hand. As his eye lights ascend to my gaze, his grin tightens a hint, pushing the already strained zygomatic arches into his sockets. Before I could chicken out and pull my hand away from the awkward situation, a deep baritone chuckle shakes his body.

“heh. names Sans. Sans the Skeleton.” His hand reaches out in slow motion, as if the skeleton would rather disappear into the void before greeting a strange human. His hand, true to the human form, holds similar jointed appendages with the exception of a few fused bones. Carolina blue stains his hoodie while sandy snow colored wool fluffs the tips of his sleeves and hood. It looks similar to a winter hoodie a teen might wear in retaliation to their parent’s suggestion of a marshmallow jacket.

_‘Okay. Remember: the prank is a whoopie cushion that he will immediately pull from his pocket dimension. No matter how hard you look, it will not be there until his hand makes contact.’_

** _‘You really have no fucking life if you know this much about a fictional character huh?’_ **

I ignore the voice, putting on my best (and hopefully friendly) smile. The bone-like flesh bends under my grasp, feeling strong yet sturdy, perhaps like a hard memory foam pillow? Each finger is divided like an anatomical skeleton from the metacarpals to the phalanges, yet the carpals have fewer lines through them. In the faint flickering of light, slivers of silver lines sparkle over some of the structures. Scars maybe?

After a few awkward moments of hand-holding, a realization dawns within: there is no whoopie-cushion sound. Instead, a strange, tingly current fizzles like a freshly opened can of soda or pop rocks on the tongue across my palm. The smell of sea brine increases in small doses, pushing like the sea itself.

_‘I should probably let go before he thinks I’m some sort of freak…well…more than I already am.’_

“It is truly **_Sans_**ational to meet you.” A pensive look passes the skeleton’s sockets for a second before hiding behind the neutral façade.

“heh. nice to **_meat _**you as well bud.” A plastic basket-like bowl settles in front of the skeleton along with an extra bottle of ketchup and a knowing look from Grillby. Sea salt and campfire flicker through the air in a strange yet argumentative manor. The two stare without a drop of spoken language, yet they perceive and respond to each other in their silent conversation. Magic sparks between the two like twinkling star lights, awaiting a flammable object to combust.

_‘It is…strangely beautiful to see magic though. Any magic done in my world is slight of hand or well…paranormal. This is true, raw D&D fantasy magic.’_

** _‘And that’s all it should be: fantasy. God how many fucking times do I have to tell you this shit before you heed my warnings?’_ **

Sans concedes first, letting out a gruff chuckle under his breath. As if noticing my gaze, the skeleton adds a rather…healthy dose of ketchup all over his food. I feel my stomach turn at the sudden smell of squashed tomatoes; my face scrunching at the phantom taste of the sugary-salty goop. Grillby’s heat brushes comfortably over the bar, assessing damage while serving up his famous burger and fries. His eyes crinkle with unspoken concern, brows drawn in worry.

**“…Let me know…if he bothers…you.” **His voice smooths out, hiding the usual crackle within his tone. It sounds cool, aloof, like an overprotective parent seconds away from giving a proper beatdown. A genuine smile scrunches my face; a warm sensation fills my inner-being with a sense of peace.

_‘I know he would never hurt his best friend and adopted child, but the thought still counts. It is…reassuring to know someone is in my corner if shit hits the fan.’_

“I will. Thank you for the food Grillby. It smells like absolute heaven.” The elemental stares for a moment longer, searching for some sort of unknown signal. Once he finds what he is looking for, he proceeds to hand his daughter her plate with condiments meant for the meal, NOT to drink. He moves fluidly across the bar, grabbing drink orders while throwing bottles with a little more flair. It is mesmerizing to watch as bottles soar high while another times out a proper pour count.

After a few moments of watching, the wonderful greasy scent of Grillby’s food reminds me of the true task at hand.

_‘Right! The legendary Grillby burger! Every fan fiction I have ever read relishes how delicious this thing is! AND I FINALLY GET TO TRY IT! THIS IS TRULY THE BEST THING EVER!’ _A giddy smile paints my face; an excited squeal accidentally slips through my lips. There is a feeling of eyes on me, but the task at hand outweighs the anxiety they bring.

I make a grab for the burger, noting the weight is nothing to sneeze at. Weighting at least 2 pounds, the meat takes front and center, yet remains in line within the brioche bun. The bottom bun, despite holding a monstrous meat patty, remains firm, thick, without an inch of disgusting soggy bread. A white unknown cheese peaks from beneath the lid, its oozy goodness begging for the first bite. There are other ingredients hidden within, but they cannot be identified without disgracing the burger through dissection. An involuntary shiver creeps up my spine in anticipation; my mouth salivates at the pure delight this burger will bring to my senses.

_‘Well…here goes! Oh fuck here we go!’_

The meat gives way like butter, its flavorful juices coat the tongue immediately. The bun provides a stable, starchy yet fluffy texture against the grease and meat. The cheese dances in behind it with salty yet spicy elements, stretching similar to Munster cheese but with a kick of pepper jack. There is a sauce of some sort, creamy yet savory which tingles a familiar yet unknown flavor. Something salty yet crunchy gives the burger its needed texture against the soft elements, bringing the whole thing together. The magical ingredients fizzle and pop along each taste bud like a long-lost friend, vanishing once more into the dark abyss. 

_‘Magic is truly the coolest!’_

An involuntary moan vibrates within my throat as I take another bite of absolute heaven. In between rather unlady-like bites, fries sneak their salty behinds into the mix. Crisp, salty outer shells with a cloud like center. Their heat warms a deeper part of my soul, yet retains a temperature that allows their consumption to be pleasurable. They melt and fizzle similarly to the burger, disappearing all too quickly. All too soon for my liking, the food is finished leaving only a grease stain where it once sat. At some point during my ravenous eating, a glass of some sort of soda made its way in front of my person. It is a normal, non-magical soda, tasting eerily similar to a pepsi-cola mixture.

“Did you enjoy that?” Fuku snickers, her face holding that all-knowing gaze. I smile back at her, face ablaze with a trail of pink.

“It’s probably the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” I answer honestly, smiling up at the fatherly elemental as he takes the baskets away.

“Thank you for the meal Grillby. You are truly a talented cook.” A faint trail of a reddish-purple spikes the elemental’s cheekbones; his body immediately scurrying away like a roach hit with a flashlight. Snickers light up the bar area as every patron attempts to keep it down after the embarrassed elemental’s departure.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask Fuku who struggles to keep her giggling quiet. She shakes her head.

“He is not use to such brutally honest compliments about his cooking.” She pokes my cheek.

“It didn’t help that we all felt the intent of your words as pure and genuine. It probably threw him for a loop.” I give her a confused look, glancing between her, Sans, and my chest.

“I thought intent is only felt through actions like cooking or fighting?” Fuku hums, her tone unsure about the topic. To my surprise, it is Sans voice that chimes in.

“by human standards, intent can come from anywhere be it verbal, creative, or physical. monsters ‘ave to put their essence or soul into the project they are doing in order to feel its intended effect. ‘s what makes humans strong comparatively to monsters.” My brows knit in confusion, my mind filtering through various fan fictions for information.

_‘I don’t recall much about intent other than the bare basics. Like a nonverbal argument or a declaration of love…or a fight. I know monsters can dust with a strong enough evil intent but…’ _My brows bend further; my eyes stare up at Sans with far too many questions.

“Don’t humans have to have magic in order for other magical creatures such a monster to feel intent?” Sans sockets crinkle a hair out of place, his eye lights shrinking by mere millimeters. His magic flares around with his signature scent, but otherwise the skeletal monster remains in his aloof posture. He gives a noncommittal shrug, downing yet another disgusting gulp of ketchup. I wait a beat, hoping for more information on the topic, but he decides to ignore the lingering question.

“welp. thanks for the grub as always Grillbs. i’ll be **_sea_**ing you later.” Particles of ocean blue magic trickle around his body, attaching like snowflakes against hair. It swirls like a hurricane landing on the ocean surface, clinging and absorbing as though its life depends on it. After a second, he disappears into thin air, leaving behind a faint trail of sea brine.

“That was…odd.” Fuku’s voice chimes up after a second of pensive silence. I spin towards her direction, giving her a quizzical look. Her face pulls into a thoughtful look, head in hand with a supple cheek pressing against one of her onyx eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Sans never dips out this early let alone over a question. He would usually pun it off or drink himself stupid with ketchup.” Fuku mumbles something under her breath, but it sounds annoyed, angry, like the skeleton did something personal to upset the elemental. Regret and an overwhelming feeling of sadness plunges the warmth from my soul into an artic depth. My fingers clench the borrowed fabric, rubbing the threading between my fingertips. It supplies a small dose of comfort and pain to atone for the trouble I have caused.

_‘It’s my fault that he left early…damn me and my curiosity. I should have taken his feelings into consideration. Maybe read his body language better? I thought I was really good at that but apparently it is something else I fail at… Fuck why do I always do this? I thought I could get better but apparently not at this rate. I bet as soon as Fuku and Grillby get over this protective feeling they have over me, they will realize that I am a disease…’_

“Do not take it personally ___. He brings _his human _here all the time and frankly, you are better company than they are. If one little question of yours drives him away, then he is not worth your time.”

** _‘Don’t believe her sugarcoated lies. You know the truth: you are disgusting with a rotting soul to boot. If that smiley trash bag can stand other humans and not you, then clearly it is you who is the trash.’_ **

“Hey dad? Could you whip us up one of your famous drinks?” Fuku calls for her father, overaccentuating her wink. The older elemental’s brow raises curiously, but one look in my direction and he begins mixing some sort of concoction. I watch with child-like fascination as Grillby quickly settles on liquids with unknown brand names and coloration. Each turn of the bottle adds another color to the glass while the liquid changes coloration based on said liquid. Shots of sunshine yellow, grassy field green, even a little sky-blue flicker in the glass like a spring day settling into one cohesive color. He tops this off with a splash of something fizzy and a hit of his personal fire. The drink slides over to his daughter while the next one begins to take shape. This one hits a smaller glass, one typically used for whiskey or scotch. Trickles of space purple, deep sea blue, and another color joins this mixture; it tops with a ruby liquid and a similar flair of fire. It glides past various bar patrons, past his daughters, landing within reach of my hands. The concoction swirls around like a thousand stars dancing along the Milky Way, twinkling with their own unique shine. Purple maintains the base for their antics while the red and blue dance without touching each other.

“You should give it a shot. Dad makes the best specialist cocktails in the district. He won second place in a mixology contest here on the surface so you know you are getting something special.” I carefully reach for the mixture, noting the subtle fruity tones wafting from the scorch in the surface. I glance at the elementals, noting the almost eager look in both their faces.

_‘Well…one drink can’t hurt…can it? It’s a specialty after all and it would be…rude to turn it down.’_

With a careful lift of the glass, I stare at the beautiful mixture before taking a tentative sip. Similar to the burger, the liquid melts with various complimentary flavors ranging from the tartness of a lemon to the crisp feel of an apple. Floral notes soft as rose petals yet sweet like honeysuckle linger after the mixture fizzles away, leaving a beautifully refreshing aftertaste.

“Wow…” I whisper, giving another hearty sip of the drink.

“This is AMAZING Grillby! How did you manage to mix something together like this? It fizzles but not completely so it’s a mixture of monster liquor and human right? The sparkles were probably from the monster liquor and the hit of your fire probably activated the shine. This is really cool! Could you maybe teach me some of these? I’ve always wanted to be a bartender but…” I slap a hand over my own mouth. A deep, embarrassing flush paints my face with a deep blood red, staining the tips of my cheeks darker than the rest.

_‘Oh crap! I rambled on like a child!’_

**_“You…would like…to learn…?” _**Through my embarrassing haze, the owner looks surprised at the outburst. I nod shyly.

“It was…something I really wanted to learn…a long time ago. But you know how humans are…When you want to pursue something like this, they assume you’re well…” Fuku gives a gentle pat, directing my attention to her frame. She gives one of her heart melting smiles; there are no signs of disgust or repulsion coming from her or her soul on the matter.

“If it is something you like to do ___, my dad would be more than happy to train you. He’s been meaning to hire someone to help him during the weekend rushes anyway. EVEN THOUGH HE WON’T ADMIT IT!” She directs the last part to her father who, in turn, gives his daughter an overly dramatic eye roll.

“R…really? You wouldn’t have to pay me of course since I rudely barged in on you two and took up so many resources of yours…”

“___”

“…and really I would be the hardest worker you ever will have! I haven’t done much in waitressing but I have some register training and I think I am good with people…”

** _“___”_ **

“But if there is anything I can do to ease the burden I have placed on you two, I will gladly work it off any way I can. Even though I really don’t have any paperwork that you would require for background checking so that could be a problem…But I hope it really isn’t! I mean I can try to find something so you know I’m not a sociopath or a psycho killer (_though it might be hard to find anything given the circumstances_) …”

**_“___!” _**“___!”

I snap my mouth shut, staring wide-eyed at the two elementals who look torn between worrying or laughing. Grillby pinches the bridge of his nose while Fuku manages to huff out a small giggle.

** _“Child…we can see you are…a good soul. We can…talk about things in length…later.”_ **

“We know you have a lot going on right now, and that your background is well…dark.”

** _“But we took you in…willingly. We know…you will come to us…when you are ready.”_ **

“Yeah! Plus! I get an awesome new friend who lives with me and helps my dad! Like a permanent sleepover!”

Tears well up, blurring the scene around me. Hiccups attempt to escape through tight lips; a few manage to squeak by despite this. Something within fills with a warm, heart clenching feeling both bitter and sweet. It screams and sings with pure relief and unrestrained joy. Voices attempt to overpower the feeling with a blanket of darkness, but the wonderous news keeps it at bay.

_‘I won’t have to worry about food, shelter, and I will be able to repay these wonderful monsters for their kindness…God this world is so different from my own I don’t understand it at all. Here, people are so nice, so trusting even if it means they risk their lives in the process. In my own world, no one would help unless they gained something from you. Even if they say you don’t owe them, it comes biting back later.’_

At some point I end up in Fuku’s arms, her soft voice cooing quiet words under the rush of chatter. Occasionally Grillby gives my head a gentle pat before returning to work, keeping the patrons a distance away for a private moment. One drink turns to two turns to three and the world begins to swirl like the stars within my personal drink. Emotions flicker from happiness to sadness to confusion to child-like wonder. Fuku and I talk about everything and nothing in particular; occasionally she holds me close as another dose of tears trickle out from a thought or something said.

The voice remains quiet throughout this, or, at least I think it does.

I meet some rather fluffy individuals who let me pet them eliciting child-like giggles from me. They tell Fuku something and give my own head a good rub before leaving. There is a duck-like monster hanging at the end of the bar looking at something while he chats. I remember laughing at his attempt to pick up chicks in the Underground by casting a physical line into the river. He even shows a picture though it is blurry. A drunk bunny coos and cries at her own table and I find myself crying with her, telling her comforting words through our drunken haze. Her fur, I remember, felt so soft I wanted to nest in it forever. She took that as a major compliment before resting her head on the table.

I vaguely remember Grillby pushing my futile attempts to help him clean, saying something about going to bed. The bar magically quiets after a few minutes and all of the patrons disappear like Sans magic. At some point, Fuku and I stumble up the steps to her room, saying something about keeping our first night home party going. I remember sitting on the floor, marveling at how soft her large rug is and how it feels like cat fur.

I don't remember passing out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe me if I told you I have six different documents about how the first encounter went with Sans? I hope so because it's true. Anyway, I am hopefully going to keep writing for today so look forward to a potential second chapter later today.  
Cheers~


	5. Chapter 4: The Lost Kitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To which we find something  
-Edit: So in my state of posting before I delete another 10+ pages, I forgot to insert a line of time skip I liked. It has been added so the flow makes a little more sense. Sorry for the inconvenience!-

Chapter 4: The Lost Kitten

_“How are things in the waking world?” I shrug, glancing up into the abyss. There is an attempt to create a false reality, one in which things are…calm. Grass, vibrant, soft, almost carpet like. Cotton candy clouds await a dip of color from other spun sugar; stone-like trees refuse to budge in the gentle spring breeze. The static hums, their fingers toying with strands of my hair. Another hand, rigid, calloused, yet surprisingly malleable, lifts our conjoined hands. I can feel the frown forming on his face, but he chooses to say nothing._

_“Have I ever told you the story of a girl who lived in her dreams?” He hums once again; his fingers brush over the top of my hand._

_“No…I do not believe you have, but I would love to hear it.” I nod, glancing toward the familiar face of my guardian angel. Darkness swirls around his visage, hiding everything but his eyes. They glow like a galaxy, swirling with deep purples and blues. When excited, they vibrate to life with lilacs and sparking gold. When sad, they darken like the abyss itself. I shake my head, fighting the blush as I begin the tale._

_ “Once upon a time, there was a girl who lived within her dreams. Here, she could shape reality to somewhere safe, somewhere where she is loved. Bubblegum streams run through the emerald fields towards the rise of another beautiful day. Sunrises bring a breath of fresh air while sunsets whisper of child-like antics. Here, she could be her true self. On more than one occasion, she would fall asleep along these hills, relishing in the peace of a simple breeze kissing her ample cheeks. Sometimes, one of her loyal wolves would join her for an afternoon nap.” _

_“A wild creature?” I shake my head._

_“No. They are similar to your wolf monsters except they can shift between human and beast.” He hums in understanding, silently gesturing to continue._

_ “On one such occasion, a russet wolf joins the girl, their fur bright as a fire with clashes of tree bark brown. A young pup, if I remember correctly, just fresh from his initiation into the court. **“Princess…? Is that…?” **A voice stirs her awake, deep yet young; full of worry yet relief laces through his words. She cracks an eye open; her frame shoots to a siting position immediately. A wide, knowing smile breaks across her face while his initial shock melts away. **“Hey Zander.” **Zander, a man just starting his mid-twenties, falls to his knees. Sharp peridot eyes bubble with unshed emotion at the return of the world’s treasure.” _

_ “Large, strong hands wrap around her frame; a broken, cracking scold falls from his lips. **“You shouldn’t be sleeping out in the open like this.” **She curls around her friend, her protector, threading fingers through the thick tresses of blonde. Deep within her soul she knows the dangers of the wilds, knows the risk she takes every time her guard falls way. Still, knowing they will protect her as she will them, she feels safe allowing this lull of open peace. The princess still flashes a sheepish look, gnawing lightly at her lip. **“I’m sorry.” **He huffs, silently accepting the empty apology. His arms tighten a fraction; his voice cracks with raw emotion. **“Welcome home. We have missed you princess.”**” _

_“She is a princess?” The male voice asks, curiosity lacing his words. I nod._

_“She is, after all, it is her kingdom from long ago.” _

_“A kingdom from long ago?” I nod again, a broken smile dances across my lips._

_“It means, when she was young, she dreamt up this kingdom from the rules to the borders. She created everything from the good to the bad, even her personal guard based around a pack order.” His fingers squeeze in understanding. I take that as a silent confirmation to continue._

_ “**Have I been gone that long?” **She whispers, a deep seed of sadness settles within her chest at his nod. **“Almost ten years my lady. A lot has changed since your last return.” **Zander gently pushes the princess away; his face contorts to something akin to pain. It is here she sees it: the signs of aging along his youthful features. Dark circles curl beneath his eyes, face sunken a hair from malnutrition and stress.** “The giants are at war with the goblins. The specters in the forest are on edge, kidnapping those who enter for an unknown reason. Even we are at war my lady.” **The princess sucks in a breath, tears demanding to fall from their imprisonment. She gapes like a fish, unaware of the events yet feeling they are due to her neglect. Had she visited more frequently, maybe appointed someone else to run in her stead, maybe things would be okay. **“Now look what you did Zander. You’ve made her cry.” **The russet wolf at her side grumbles, glaring sharp ocean blue eyes at the male. The other wolf slowly shifts back into a young boy, no more than 18. His hair, short, shaggy little fire wisps against a well-toned frame. He leans back against the hillside, threading his fingers through hers. **“You should have told her the dangers of her being out in public beforehand Cynric.” **Zander hisses, his pupils slide into cat-like slits. Cynic mimics the action; the two glare at each other in silent competition.” _

_“Is that a wolf thing?” I shake my head, unlocking our fingers. A dull ache throbs in between each digit from the stationary position._

_“It is a creature thing in both senses of nature. Breaking eye contact means you surrender or submit to the dominant power.” He hums; the sound of pencil scratching paper fills the space. _

_“Fascinating…”_

_ “**“Enough of that you two.” **They break the stare simultaneously, muttering an embarrassed “sorry” under their breaths. She sighs, patting the spot on the opposite side of her. Zander takes the hint, falling to his knees next to the princess. The other wolf, Cynric, lets out a warning growl but otherwise allows the other close. The three stare up into the cloudless sky, basking in the comforting warmth of the sun and each other. Their time, however, is short lived. The princess feels the pull of reality beckoning her spirit. **“It can’t be time yet! You just got here!” **Cynric panics, eyes wild, frantic, as he holds onto her fading hand. She gently touches his face, wiping a stray tear before it has a chance to leave a mark. She simply smiles at the wolf boy, biting the false promises she wishes she could say. He breaks away, shifting mid stride to run into the forest. A broken-hearted howl pierces the silence of the day; she bows her head in shame and sorrow. Zander watches helplessly as her form begins to fade, an unknown emotion falling forward along with a defeated stare. **“Will you return soon?” **He pleads, eyes warbling with unshed tears. He knows the answer within his soul as does she, but he holds hope that she will say something different this time. **“You know I cannot control when I visit or not my dear.” **Both bodies stare at each other as her form becomes translucent, knowing deep within their souls this could be the last encounter. The last time they see each other. The kingdom’s princess. Their savior. Their love. A single tear falls from his face as he utters the last words she will ever hear. **“Good night, my princess.” **She smiles, her own tears falling as her daylight strikes through the image. **“Good morning, my alpha.”**” _

_“She awakens with tears in her eyes as her reality overtakes her fantasy. She tries for years to get back to her people, to make sure the castle stands and peace remains throughout the land.” There is a quiet moment between my words, but he breaks it with the hanging question._

_“She cannot make it back…can she?” I shudder, feeling the phantom pain weigh heavily on my chest. _

_“No…her mind…breaks so to speak. Her guardian leaves after she has grown, visions of the future hide behind a veil she cannot see through…her dreams become just that: dreams. Sometimes, even in those dreams, she cannot escape the torment reality imposes on her.”_

_“That sounds like a personal hell for someone who dreams so vividly.” He threads his fingers back through my hand, giving a gentle squeeze. I squeeze back, turning my face away from his prying eyes. My heart throbs at the loss, a constant reminder of a world that can never rectify itself…the last moments of his face… _

_“…It is…To have something she craves the most ripped away, unable to gain it back…” Fingers brush along my jaw, carefully grasping my chin between his forefinger and thumb. Tears blur the world around us; the liquid disappears before it hits our conjoined hands. _

_“What does she crave?” He whispers. His hold softens, releasing my chin in favor of wiping away the evidence. My heart rapidly beats, in pain, in panic; it craves a single word, a single emotion. To feel something other than crippling sadness; to have someone say it is okay to be this way._

_“Love.” Something cracks within my chest at the word; something so simple yet so foreign. Darkness pulls my frame forward, pressing it into a soft yet sturdy wall. I grasp at the fabric the man wears, sobbing into his chest while the emotions ride like waves. Hands caress the back of my body; a voice in a lost language mumbles supportive words under their breath. I hold this man, this stranger, like a lifeline. Something about him is oddly familiar, but the clash of memories and loss of others leaves a confusing mark within. _

_“It appears your alarm is going off my dear. It is time for you to awaken.” I shake my head bitterly, tightening my grip. He sighs; something soft presses against the apex of my head._

_“We shall talk again soon. I can promise you that much, but nothing more.” The fantasy world begins to fade to blackness, taking him away with it. The solid figure becomes translucent, ghost-like. Yet, fear does not push forth at his lack of corporal form. His words ring truth, so it will only be a matter of time before I see him once again._

_“Good night, my princess.” I giggle through tears, a wide, knowing smile stretches across my face._

_“Good morning, …m…y…”_

Day light pokes through the curtains attempting to hide it; the sound of my alarm blares obnoxiously through the room. I smack it with a little force, smiling in satisfaction as it shuts the hell up.

_‘Damn…I haven’t cried that hard in a dream since…’ _I shake my head, sitting upright. The fuzzy blue blanket falls askew, the color similar to a certain skeleton’s hoodie. Most of it remains on the floor in a heap, only a quarter of it shields my body from the morning air. One pillow is thrown half way across the small room, the other somehow twists into a diagonal position. I wipe the dried tears with the palm of my hand while using the other to check the time.

_‘6am. I should probably start getting ready for my shift at Muffets...It's going to be another hot day today...’ _Cool, rich wood meets bare feet, sending a frigid chill up my legs. Gooseflesh breaks across the surface, intensifying the chill within the air. I throw my pillow back into place along with majority of the blanket onto the twin cot, nearly knocking over my knapsack in the process. A couple of things on the office desk nearby chatter due to the sudden breeze, but quiet down just as quickly. I grab my knapsack from the bed frame, disposing of the wrappers from the day before into a nearby trash can. I stare at the bag for a moment, sighing as yet another wandering bout of negativity hits home.

_'Months have passed since my initial arrival, and I still find it difficult to integrate into society. With monster's kindness, a roof over my head, food on the table, and those attempting to be friends should be enough, I find it rather...nerve wracking. As if one day, just like my home, will be stripped to nothing but bitter darkness and...'_

I give myself a light slap to the face, breaking the train of thought.

_‘None of that today. Lets try to get through another day...I should go to a park or something after work. Maybe hit up the pharmacy for some extra ointment and bandages.’_

I search through the small pile of clothing, picking out the first pair of shorts and t-shirt my hands touch. They, along with my hoodie, smoosh into the small bag, bulging the poor thing like an overstuffed jalapeño. I slide the bag over to the bookshelves, stuffing the poor thing further with my wallet, the house key, and a romance novel I am half way through. It takes a little struggling (and a little more time than I am willing to admit) for the strings to close the hole completely, sealing the goods from mother nature.

_‘Why are these bags annoying even in this universe? You would think a sport bag meant for transporting clothing would be easy to close but nooooo. Getting a dimensional box added to the phone is too expensive right now…even if they are convenient…’_

I sigh, dragging the round lump over to the expensive looking desk. It takes only a minute or two to slip into my uniform: a purple blouse, black slacks, a random pair of printed socks, and a simple purple ribbon. The silken fabric hums under a gentle touch; a memory pulls itself forward at its origin.

_“All my employees must wear the ribbon.” Muffet states, half her hands holding my forms while the others work with pastries nearby. _

_“Is there any particular reason why?” I question. Regret immediately kicks my question to the curb allowing panic to set in._

_“Wait, you don’t have to answer that. It’s your rules.” The boss monster giggles, holding a hand up to hide her fanged grin. Something akin to mischief causes her eyes to sparkle like deep violet diamonds twinkling in a spotlight._

_“No need to fret dearie ahuhu~. The ribbon has a little bit of my magic imbedded within the thread. This allows my other employees to know you work for me and mean no ill intent.” _

_“I thought all monsters could sense intent by the soul’s signature?” Muffet hums, placing the papers down in favor of reaching for something else. Her lips move with a rapid pace, yet no tangible words come forth. Something scurries from the table to her hand. It looks like a little soot creature like the ones in Spirited Away. _

_“Ahuhu~ that is true for most monsters. There are some, however, that struggle to do so due to the low concentration of magic in their bodies. My employees are one of those creatures.” Her hand moves close to my frame, shoving the little soot ball forward. Eight little legs poke out from the pom-pom sized fluff; beady white pin pricks for eyes appear to glare in my direction. It makes a chattering sound, wiggling its arms as if that alone will convey what it is trying to say. _

I shake my head, dispersing the memory.

_‘I really have to stop doing that before heading into work. Otherwise I will cut it too close for comfort.’ _I quickly secure the ribbon around my neck, sighing in relief as her magic hums across my skin. A faint waft of sugar cookies and something dusty caresses my senses for a brief moment before it disappears into the air. I sling my bag over my shoulder, grabbing my phone as I make my way out of the room.

“You got work this morning?” Fuku’s voice mumbles, a yawn finishes her sentence. I close my door, spinning to face the sleepy elemental. Her flames flicker slowly, like seaweed submerged in a still sea. Onyx eyes hold fast to an ounce of sleep, giving her a glazed, unfocused look. Twinkling sparks of kindness slowly rouse her soul from its slumber, igniting it with its usual coloration. I smile, giving the elemental a simple nod. She attempts to stifle another yawn to no avail, only partially covering it with her palm.

“Just remember: dad and I will be gone for the day. There is a strong chance you will beat us both home.”

“I know.”

“Is your phone charged?”

“Yup.”

“You got your house key and wallet just in case?”

“Already packed.”

“Okay...” Another yawn. “Don’t forget to pack a snack or pick one up on your way to work.”

“I know.” I giggle, walking over to her slouch frame. Arms immediately reach ahead, wrapping around my form with a sigh.

_‘Daisies and the smell of a meadow after a rainstorm…a smell only a kind soul such as she could have.’_

“…Are you sure you will be okay on your own?” She mumbles into my hair, pulling me closer. Worry and doubt cloud her being in a thick fog, dimming the color, suffocating it. An ugly color suffocating such a pure, loving soul…

“I could stay home…so you won’t be lonely…” Her soul’s pulse beats along with her worry, pushing, throwing itself through the fog. I bite my lip, shaking my head at her request.

“Fuku…you’re working hard for this degree. You are only one more semester away from transferring to that big Ivy school. How long have you been planning to go there?” Her arms tighten.

“Years…” She mumbles into my hair.

“Exactly!” I huff. “I will be fine for the day. Honest. If anything, I’ll probably be at Muffets the whole time.” She sighs, allowing my body to back away from her frame.

“Are you sure?” I smile.

“Yes, I am sure! Now, what time are classes done?” She hums, staring blankly at the ceiling.

“Five, I think. But with the old bitty teaching our human-monster relations class, it could be longer.” She groans, rubbing the remainder of sleep from her eyes. Her soul appears to clear up from the earlier smog, but a little hint of doubt lingers in the corner.

_‘Not completely better, but enough where she won’t worry about me.’_

“Stars I really don’t want to deal with her today. Rather watch Sans down twenty bottles of ketchup.” I roll my eyes knowing full well she couldn’t pull it off.

“Yes, I am sure you would be able to watch Sans of all people drink twenty bottles of ketchup in one sitting.” I huff causing her to giggle.

“I could if I really wanted to!” She laughs. “Who am I kidding? I would probably take it from him after the second one.” I pull out my phone, wincing at the time.

_‘Six-thirty-seven. If I don’t get moving, I will definitely be late for work.’_

“Tell you what,” I pocket the phone. “When you get home from class, we can order from your favorite take out place.” Fuku flashes puppy dog eyes with an eager nod.

“Please. Maybe swing a drink or two depending on how the day goes.” I roll my eyes, giving her a “we’ll see” as I pass. Clattering from within the kitchen echoes loudly in the quiet space as I descend; faint whiffs of vanilla temps the weary toward its caffeine goodness.

_‘Grillby must be struggling to get up this morning if he is resorting to coffee. Best to let him mentally prepare for the day on his own.’_

I make a quick pit stop at the nearby bathroom, allowing my bladder sweet relief.

_‘Okay…today will be an okay day. Just a simple work day at Muffets and maybe a trip to the park.’_

** _‘Today is going to be a disaster. Too many people, all glaring at you like the scum you are. You can’t do anything in a public area.’_ **

_‘I don’t need to cut to keep myself in check. I will be okay today.’_

** _‘But what if it isn’t? Then you are a shitty child out of luck, panicking on the workplace floor. Do you think she will want to keep you after that?’_ **

“I…” I glance up at the mirror bracing my form on the porcelain sink. Water from the faucet continues to run in the background, but I cannot bring myself to care. Oddly shaped eyes stare back, blues and greys bickering over dominance. Cracking thin lips rest in a neutral stance, only opening to allow a sigh through. Because of the stupid summer sun, various stupid, ugly specks flit from cheek to cheek, rushing over the flat ridge of my nose.

My hand releases the sink, dragging choppy, lifeless brunette locks through each finger crevice. Sliver strands flicker under the morning rays, showing off how quickly my body wishes to age.

_‘They seem darker today though…like a dark grey instead of silver. Odd.’_

**_‘Are you quite fucking done looking at your ugly self yet?’ _**The voice chimes up, sounding bored as ever. A shadow looms behind my frame, the outline ghost-like yet solid. A dark crimson ring runs over their form, thumping in time with my heart rate. There are no other discerning features about the shadow…and that scares me.

“Yeah…I’m going.” I shut off the water, refusing to break contact with the shadow. I can feel it rolling its eyes like a disappointed parent.

** _‘Are you really fucking stupid to allow a possible panic attack in public. OH wait! You are. So, what’s the reason this time.’ _ **

“I don’t want to cut this close to work time. It will cause concern.” They scoff.

**_‘Like that has ever stopped your dumb ass before.’ _**Irritation radiates off them in waves, but they say no more, disappearing just as quickly as they came.

** _‘Just remember that I gave you a way out when you’re fucking breaking down later.’_ **

I refuse to look in the mirror on my way out, walking past the obvious stares weighing heavily on either shoulder. The clock overhead reads 6:49am, causing a spike of panic through my person.

_‘God damnit! I am so screwed! I am definitely going to be late at this rate!’_

I quickly slide on my plum sneakers, cursing quietly as the heel refuses to pop back up. It takes far too long to get it up, and half the time to rush out the side door. A patch of grass bends to my feet as I speed by, keeping my head down as I integrate with the morning commuters. Humans and monsters of various origins walk on either side of the street, their chatter swirling together like television static. Birds squawk at each other over something or another, attempting to drown out the conversation below. Cars push a current by every now and again, occasionally letting out a jarring sound. There is a lightness within the morning air, uplifting almost, but I cannot pull away from my thoughts long enough to embrace it.

_‘Oh stars! If I don’t hurry up, I will be late for work. If I’m late, she might get mad and if she gets mad then she might cut my hours. If she cuts my hours then I lose out on paying Grillby back for being kind to a loser like me…’_

Worry gnaws at my lip; tears threaten to fall from aggravation. Steps immediately pick up the pace, running from the problems, running from my mind.

I manage to make it to Muffets in record breaking time, only knocking on the employee entrance once before letting myself in. Muffet and another monster move about the kitchen area, mumbling orders for the day between each other. Five of the seven stainless ovens appear to be in use if the little red timers on them are anything to go by. A handful of spiders take up the adjourning counter space, working as a unit to carefully frost a few cupcakes for the display case.

“Ahuhu~ Good morning ___. You are rather early today.” I glance at the clock over the little kitchen sink: 6:59.

_‘I…managed to get to Muffets in ten minutes…’_

“…” Muffet giggles, her eyes attentively on my backside. I stow my bag in the far corner, hiding it among the supplies.

“If you would be so kind dear as to help Claudia at the front. Poor thing is struggling with all the orders.” I give the boss monster a simple bow, making my way through the single kitchen door. True to her words, the little curly blonde appears frantic, stuttering over her words while attempting to pour coffee.

“A..ah s…sir. W…what did you wa…” I gently place a hand on her shoulder, careful of the hot pot in her right hand.

“Oh! ___! H…how are you!” Claudia, a sixteen-year-old human with about as much retail face as a two-year-old knowing quantum physics. Her hair wiggles free from its confines, sticking in every direction due to her worry. Splotches of sickly red splatter her face; her baby blues wide with unshed tears.

“Claudia, why don’t you take the orders while I grab them?” I ask gently, prying the coffee pot from her python grip. She gives an eager nod, shoving her stack of unmade orders across the counter. I quickly grab an apron, attempting to squish the budding nerves from blooming.

_‘Fuck…she is already this behind? That means the pace will be behind unless I can crack out the orders quickly. The more orders cracked out the better the sales and then we will be ahead come the afternoon. Okay! First order is coffee and…’_

The morning moves by in a blur of faces, scalding burns from coffee, and the occasional racist asshole. The tickets at the beginning stall the flow as Claudia continues to take orders, but somehow, we manage to have everyone placated before 1pm. Coffee, jellies, and some sort of powder cover my apron while ink covers my partner’s fingertips. The case looks like a bomb hit, leftover toppings all over the place as well as some usual places.

_‘This cleaning will take a good hour before any new product can go in…if I am lucky…’_ I sigh, watching the girl fidget nervously, glancing between the clock and the counter. I take the silent hit, giving the girl a pat on the shoulder.

“Why don’t you go take your break Claudia? I can handle it from here.” Claudia looks nervously between the people and I, clearly wanting the break but afraid to ask.

“Are you sure?” I give her a patient smile, making a shooing motion with powdered fingertips. She smiles with relief, giving a quick hug before bolting through the kitchen door.

_‘Okay. In between the lull of people, I need to clean the display case, refill the coffee, and take care of someone as soon as they come in. Once the case is clear, I can ask Muffet for the next batch which will help increase her revenue…’_

I hand the last order to some guy with my best retail smile, wishing him a good afternoon in his departure. Filling the coffee is first due to its quick nature; it only takes seconds compared to the deep clean the case will require. Only a handful of customers come after the breakfast/lunch rush, allowing ample time to prepare for the afternoon rush.

Muffet’s bakery isn’t a place a lot of people would assume they could get sweet treats. The exterior comes off like its Halloween year-round with gothic overtones and tinted windows. When you walk inside however, the gothic interior screams regal, simplistic, and nothing remotely close to Halloween.

_‘The revelation that Muffet’s isn’t bathed in Barney the Dinosaur purple is a relief in itself. I don’t know how readers are able to create an all purple shop for the spider monster. I feel like it would all blend together…’_

I hum, pausing mid wipe. My eyes look at the bakery through the bubble dome display, noting the lead grey walls work rather well with the rich, walnut tables. Black iron chairs tuck daintily under the circular tables, hiding the royal purple paddings within their shadows. Each table holds a simple menu on a black standing loop; napkins sit daintily in a container next to it. There is only one booth by the front window, the padding a similar shade of purple like their chair brethren. Everything ends in a beautifully stained poplar wood flooring.

_‘Then again, if there is no shop in the game other than little carboard boxes for the bake sale, the conclusion would be the purple monster would love a purple shop. Less intimidating I suppose…’_

“Ahuhu~ Daydreaming again are we ___?” I yelp, bashing my head against the glass. I pull my head along with the rag out, face red with embarrassment.

“N…no ma’am. Just cleaning the case for the afternoon sweets.” My head throbs in protest, but I stand stock still, head hanging in shame. She giggles, her hands moving about with various tasks in mind.

_‘No matter how many times I see her use all of her arms, it is cool yet a hair unsettling. Like a human having horse hoofs or something. I wonder if that is a thing? Probably…’_

“Why don’t you take your break dearie? I can watch the counter until Claudia returns.” A seed of worry worms its way into my nerves, assaulting them with fear.

“B…but don’t you have orders to finish for tomorrow and later today?”

“They are all finished for the day ahuhu~.” I open my mouth to protest, to tell her that it was okay if I wait a little longer. After all, that is why she hired me in the first place.

_‘Oh stars! I must have messed up! There is no way she would dismiss me so early for lunch before another employee comes back! Did I not clean things up to her protocol? Maybe she heard me curse under my breath about that one customer?’ _ Cool, dainty fingers brush under my jaw, carefully lifting my skull to six patient eyes.

“I see that look on your face dearie. You have done a marvelous job as always and deserve a break. Everything will be fine if you take a breather.” She carefully releases my face; one of her other arms place a pastry of some sort into my hand while another takes the rag away. I huff, muttering a quiet “thank you” to the boss monster as I slip into the kitchen.

_‘I should go outside…get a breather away from people to calm my nerves.’ _My fingers dutifully grab a time clock sheet, writing my arrival to be around 8am with my break starting at 1:30. I place it in the mailbox slots next to the time clock, hanging my apron along the lip of my mailbox.

_‘I’ll wash it when I get home so she won’t have to.’_

The door to the outside world is bright and brutal with hot, sweltering heat rushing around my body. It prickles and picks at my skin, blemishing it in unattractive heat patches. My body screams to return to the cold, to shun the heat, but the metal door closes signaling a decision made. The streets bustle with fewer bodies and the ones remaining about enjoy the swelter. Shadowed bodies line business windows, their conversations mute from the outside world.

_‘I will never understand who the hell loves this hotter than Satan’s ball sac weather… You can’t rip your skin off if it gets too hot, but if it’s cold you can bundle up…or cuddle.’_ A few humans walk by, their bright whites stand out against flawless tanned skin. Envy bubbles beneath the surface; eyes glancing at the sunburnt blotches against my skin.

_‘Must be nice not to fry up like a lobster in the sun…’ _I bitterly bite into the pastry. The sour mood shifts to one of bliss as a chocolate, buttery flavor assaults my tongue. The pastry is flakey, crumbling on contact with my teeth, yet airy, fluffy, and definitely not lacking in the flavor department. It has a croissant-like base, but a tingle of magic in the back of my throat gives way to another sweet yet savory flavor. Upon another bite, chocolate oozes across my tongue, thick viscous, like molasses but smoother. It slides easily like water, leaving behind a tingle of something spicy. It is not hot enough that a drink is in order, but just enough punch to confuse yet inspire the taste buds.

_‘Stars…are all monsters great cooks? … Well, other than the Papyri in game and in fan fiction…’_

The croissant barely lasts against the hunger clawing at my stomach, its insistent growling a reminder of a forgotten breakfast…again. I push into it gently with a fist, hoping the simple discomfort will settle the gnawing feeling temporarily.

_‘I can’t afford to feed you now anyway stomach…I left my wallet at Muffets…’ _I continue my walk around the neighborhood, making sure to carefully calculate the route based on how much time it will take me to get back to the bakery. Savory smells of grease, expensive food, and even an iconic smell similar to Chick-fl-A wafts in the humid air, pulling at the strings of hunger further. Instead of caving (which would resort to stealing) I duck into a nearby alleyway. The reprieve from the sun is welcoming on my skin; the cool brick provides just enough chill to lower my body temperature. I sigh, closing my eyes as a cool wisp of air rushes by.

_‘I’ll just hang out for a minute or two, chill my skin out, then head back to Muffets. If I am quick enough, I can slip in during my break, clean up a bit more before …!’_

A gentle yet wet surface pokes at my forearm, causing a squeak of distress out of me. Eyes snapping open, I only have a moment to glance at the perp before it disappears into the alley’s dumpster. There is silence for a moment, then, a soft, delicate cry echoes beneath the metal. I squat down, awkwardly tilting my head as though it would allow some visage under the dumpster. Two large, glowing baby blues stare back, squinting as yet another sound escapes its maw. It keeps its eyes trained in my direction, occasionally flickering over its shoulder as if something will attack.

“H…hey little guy…What are you doing out here all alone?” The creature cries again, its eyes enlarging as something beneath shuffles around. I carefully move to my hands and knees, slowly extending a hand as far forward as possible.

“Don’t worry little buddy... I got you.” There is a beat of silence between the two of us; its eyes staring with hesitancy. After a moment, it scrambles forward, pulling itself from its hiding spot. I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The creature, a kitten no more than two to three months glances around frantically, its eyes nearly sewn shut with a thick layer of bacteria. This is a typical ailment of wild kittens, but this one appears to have a particularly bad case. Black as night fur overtakes most of the little guy’s fur, only stopping periodically for splotches of white. One such part forms an oddly perfect triangle up its face, booping a rose-pink nose in the middle of it. Little white mittens on its feet are soiled beyond what is acceptable, nearly staining them brown with sewage. Clumps of both white and black matt against the poor creature’s skin, a sure sign of infestation or poor living conditions.

_‘A…kitten? What is this guy doing here? Where is its mom?’_

“Come here sweetie…” It creeps forward, glancing around at any other noise. After a few steps, it stalls, crying out with a pitifully, heartbreaking cry. A cry for help, for someone to notice its fight…a cry to live.

Something deep within resonates with the feeling; to see this creature, broken, beaten, yet trying to live…I cannot let it die without trying my best to save it. The anxiety spiking my system turns to purpose, thoughts clear to one, singular purpose.

I coo and call at the kitten, inching forward slowly as if one sudden movement would startle the poor thing. Each time it cries in response, inching forward itself albeit not as much as I. The call and response dance goes on for what feels like hours; some attempts end up with it running back under the dumpster. Like a restart button on a game, our dance would begin once more.

“That’s right sweetie…only a few more steps before I can get you…” It blinks, staring ahead to contemplate the situation. I feel it staring into my eyes, judging me. It lets out one final cry, taking the needed step forward. As soon as it does, my hands shoot out, cupping the child like an infant. The kitten deflates with one more cry, but remains still, curling into the new heat. My heart beats erratically in my chest as it snuggles up, eyes closing.

_‘…oh fuck I did not think this through! What do I do with it now? I can’t just stand here and hold it! It needs attention! But if I carry it like this it might make it worse…oh why didn’t I bring my hoodie with me?!’_

A rough, nasally breath escapes its body; it did not sound good at all. Upon closer inspection, the matts of fur are due to blood, not filth. Little creepy crawlies scamper along its body, biting the flesh to gain nutrients.

_‘Fuck! It really needs help and not some indecisive bitch! … My shirt! The embarrassment can kill me later beneath a bottle of strong alcohol!’_

I struggle and shift the ball of fluff between either hand, carefully extracting my work shirt from my form. Once completely off, I make a swaddle for it, holding it close as to not let it fall. It blinks slowly up at me, staring at something.

“I am so sorry you are stuck with me little guy. I promise I will find you help so you will live okay? Please just trust me…” It closes its eyes, snuggling into the swaddle with a breathy huff.

_‘Okay…now to just leave the alleyway…’ _I take a nervous breath, my steps quick as I head back into the direction of my employment.

_‘There should be a vet around here somewhere, I think. Maybe? I don’t recall seeing one on my way to work. Then again, I don’t really pay attention during my commute. Damnit! I really should learn to pay better attention for situations like these!’ _My steps pick up; the world blurs into a kaleidoscope as tears threaten to fall.

_‘I can’t ask Fuku or Grillby either! They are super busy with stuff even though I promised Fuku I would, but I can’t ask her to skip out for my sake! I have to try figuring this out on my own!’_

As if sensing my panic, a tiny mewl breaks the train of thought, snapping my worried eyes to the fluff still in hand. It blinks slowly up at me, a simple cat grin settling into something comforting despite it not moving. Sleep overtakes its form once more.

_‘That’s right. I have to find something for this little guy. He believes in me and is relying on me to get him to safety. I better start moving.’_

Streets and people begin to blur as panic thrusts momentum forward. Hot blistering sun claws at my bare back, ripping welts down the pale flesh. Monsters and humans alike star curiously at my passing frame, moving out of the way before I make contact. To those I stop, they do not give me an answer, simply walking away with a hush of confusion under their breath. A few give nasty glares, mumbling curses of rape and modesty at my appearance. I pocket those thoughts away; they will not help in the current moment. Streets, time, location…they blur together through a fog of panic. Adrenaline pushes my legs into an unknown direction; tears blind me from seeing anything beyond swirls of psychedelic colors. The heat is unbearable at this point; heart beating erratically between finding help and preventing the body from giving out.

_‘Failure! Failure! Failure! Can’t find a simple location for a creature in need! They will die because of my insolence! I need to hurry! Why can’t I hurry faster?!’ _The impact feels like a brick wall, strong, sturdy, with enough backwards momentum to stumble my footing. I clutch my package with care, watching through foggy lenses as the world begins to tilt. Gravity is taking my body into its arms like a lover, sweeping my feet up into the great blue sky. Everything slows like a movie; like blacking out without completely shutting down.

_‘…!’ _ I blink, feeling a rather strong, sturdy structure around my mid-section. Some of the ray’s blistering fingers hide behind the stranger’s form, giving a little shade to my face. Still, the sun hides most of their face, forming a halo-like glow behind them.

“GOODNESS LITTLE HUMAN! YOU MUST BE CAREFUL AND MINDFUL OF YOUR SURROUNDINGS!” The voice belts, strong yet with a strain, like someone who forces their voice to be jovial. The volume grates on their vocal cords a hair, giving the light, airy voice a strange new tone. Yet, despite the volume, they radiate a kindness only few in the world could possibly obtain. Magic tingles around our points of contact; soft, soothing like a cold night with a lover by the fire, a sunrise along the shoreline…a lighthouse to guide sailors to safety.

_‘They smell nice too…like a spicy, warm tea with just the right amount of citrus and sweetness…’ _My body involuntarily inhales the scent once more, sighing in relief as the panic subsides.

_‘Even their scent appears to wrap itself around my soul, giving it a warm hug…it’s nice…’_

“GASP!” The person says and does the action. “WHY ARE YOU CRYING SMALL HUMAN? I KNOW THE SIGHT OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS SOMETHING TO BEHOLD, BUT NOT ENOUGH TO CRY!”

My eyes pop open; my body flings itself to no avail from the person’s grip. Trails of sticky, salty tears dry as quickly as they fall. Crouching in an odd-like, uncomfortable position is no other than Papyrus himself. While his full form is in a crippling position, his length looks roughly to be around 6-foot 5…maybe nearing 7 foot if he stands straight. Smooth bone like skin caresses every part of his skull from the tip of his rounded skull to the strong, square jaw at the base. Two bones poking at either side of his face simulate cheeks, moving animatedly like the rest of his face. While his brother has wide, abyss sockets, Papyrus appears to have narrow slit sockets.

“HUMAN? HAVE YOU PERHAPS RECEIVED DAMAGE FROM BUMPING INTO MY MAGNIFICENT FORM?!” Orange translucent tears bubble beneath his sockets; his bone brow bending in object horror. I shake my head quickly.

“A…ah no Papyrus…just um…” The bundle within my hand shifts; the original panic comes back full force.

“T…the k…kitten…needs…h…help…” I manage to get out, fluctuating between blushing, crying, and panicking. _‘How embarrassing…’ _His face contorts to one of confusion, hand poised as he hums aloud. I take this moment to step out of his grip.

“A KITTEN YOU SAY? TINY HUMAN I DO NOT SEE…” The kitten in question pokes its head up, blearily glaring at the skeleton for waking it up. Papyrus lets out a soft “Oh” as the little tyke, literally on death’s bad side, radiates annoyance for the disturbance. Papyrus flushes with a beautiful tangerine orange, his face looks mildly scolded. Once the kitten feels the skeleton is thoroughly scolded, it returns to the nest for rest once more. I shift awkwardly, staring dumbly at the lump within my hands.

“I…found it…by the dumpster…it needs…help.” I take a steady breath, willing myself to look up at the looming frame. If I were some random human dropped into this world with no fan fiction knowledge, I would probably be afraid of the skeleton. His anatomical proportions are similar to a human from width of his shoulders to the girth of his pelvic bone. The only thing keeping his bones from being too immodest is his signature “Cool Dude” crop top and a set of bright orange running shorts.

_‘It is really hard to remember these guys are literally magical creatures and not anatomical skeletons.’_

“Little Human? Would You, Perhaps, Require The Aid Of The Great Papyrus?” His eyes twinkle with concern; his hands wring the gloves concealing the lanky digits. An unknown breeze billows the skeleton’s cape in such a way that any child would see him as a true super hero.

** _‘You cannot trust him! He’s with the smiley trash bag! You know he will try to bring you around more! He will try to get you discovered so his brother can take out the trash!’_ **

_‘But the kitten…’_

** _‘Screw the flea infested bar of pain in the ass! It doesn’t need you! It will die on its own!’_ **

“P…please Papy.” I bow my head. Two long, bare, boney arms pass my vision; his shadow looms overhead as he prepares to do something. Gravity and Earth disappear beneath my feet for a fraction of a second, but before panic could begin, a warmth unlike any other settles over my person. Something tickles the bits of skin he touches, like running a warm stream gently across my skin. It cools the heat from my flesh, keeping the sun and its dastardly rays away temporarily.

_‘Papyrus is so cool…using his magic to keep the heat off of us. I wonder if he notices himself doing it?’_

Papyrus wastes no time weaving through the crowed, his long legs makes the entire trip far quicker than my little legs could go. Occasionally a monster or human would stop him in greeting, asking curiously where he is going with a human like me. He keeps it brief, yet polite as he excuses himself from the conversation. Every once in a while, a hum vibrates his ribcage, like a silent lullaby easing the tension from my form.

A little mom and pop looking building comes into view after a few more moments, its front pulses with some form of magic to keep the lush garden alive. Various blooms accentuate the stone building, giving it life rather than a destitute feeling. Cars park on either side of the lot; various monsters and creatures alike walk through the single push door. A little sign swings happily in a light breeze just a few inches from the building.

_‘Huh…if it wasn’t for the sign, I would think this was a clinic or something similar for bipedal creatures.’_ Sweet, blissful air conditioning greets us as we walk through the single push door; a rousing slew of dog chatter starts back up as we enter the main area.

“Good afternoon Papyrus. Is it Tuesday already?” A young woman in her early 30’s greets the towering monster. Papyrus carefully plants my form back onto the tile, careful to keep some distance between my half naked form and his frame. I blush, glancing down at the tile. Papyrus coughs, perhaps finally realizing my clothing situation.

“I Am Afraid Not Gwendolen. My…Erm…” I feel his sockets glance between the desk and my form, afraid to say something to upset me. The woman, Gwendolen, meets my timid gaze with a curious brow, but awaits my answer.

“F…friend?” I whisper, quietly testing the word on my lips. It’s a foreign feeling, yet, giddy, like a child trying soda for the first time or a teenager experiencing their first kiss. It’s scary, it’s exhilarating…its…odd.

_‘Papyrus is a great monster and an even better mascot. Even if I am not ready for that level of…commitment?... I can at least throw him a bone…When I get back to my world, I might want to lay off the Undertale fan fiction for a while….’_

“Quite Right! My Friend Here Has Found A Rather Grumpy Looking Kitten! She Says It Is In Need Of Assistance.” Gwendolen puckers her lips, glancing to her screen as fingers deftly fly over the keyboard. Her ruby curly tresses push away from her face in an updo pony tail, accentuating the angular curvature of her face. Glasses hang towards the bridge of her nose, giving the young woman a librarian feel.

“The doctor really only takes appointments only, but I can check to see if she is available to see you.”

“Please.” The woman nods, pushing away from her area in search of the vet. The clock behind the desk ticks away; each second feels like an anvil to the chest. Her words weigh like a sinking ship during a storm; thoughts race by as panic begins to bloom.

_‘What if the doctor can’t see us? Are there any other places that could take us in? I can’t let this little guy down! He is relying on me to get him some help to feel better! Oh, stars and then what if Papyrus needs to go? Then I am really out of luck and I can only walk so far to get the help and what if this little guy is literally living the last moments of his life right in this moment…Oh fuck my job! I know I am well over my lunch break time! I am going to get fired, let this little guy down and…’_

A weight, heavy and gentle settles atop my head. It gently moves in a brushing motion; it radiates a pure feeling of something, reminding me there is someone here to help. It feels like a breath of fresh air swimming down into my lungs, breaking the dark, suffocating matter away. The form behind me makes an exaggerated breath, pushing their chest into my back like a gentle reminder. I continue to work through the fog, taking a long, accentuated breath when the other’s chest hits me.

“Better?” Papyrus’ voice drops an octave, the tone quiet, gentle. I merely nod, unable to find my voice. There is a question hanging within the air, a statement or observation the lanky skeleton wishes to make. The bones making up his jaw click open, a gust of air preparing to push the words out.

“The doctor has a cancelation this afternoon, so she will be able to see you now. Room 3.” Papyrus’ jaw clicks shut; his skull rattles a little as he nods.

“Wonderful. Thank You Again Gwendolyn.” She makes a shooing motion to us, leaping for the phone as it begins to ring.

“Let’s Go.” He whispers, gently pushing my body forward. The animals around us liven up at the motion; some quiet down at the insistent hushing of their owners. The halls smell of wet dog hair and some sort of chemical; the lights hum with an annoying fluorescent tube lighting. Papyrus reaches forward, pushing a door to our right open. It is standard in terms of a veterinary office: a chair for the owner, a sink with a few cabinets containing cotton swabs and such. A metal table-like bench with a short end welded to the wall, a baby scale sitting on the same side. Tile floors once a pristine fake marble white now bare scrapes of age and tear from its larger creatures. Puke green walls hold the suffocating smallness of the space together, positing pictures of proper weight management of animals.

“Everything Will Be Okay. Doctor Levi Is The Best Doctor Here.”

“I hope so…” I whisper just as the opposing door opens. A dog monster stands within the doorway, giving instructions to those in the other room before closing the door. Two golden curly ears hang around the round curvature of her face like hair. Big, bold chocolate eyes stare with a clinical kindness and not in a negative way either. Her lab coat is a pure white with little paw prints along the trim; the color popping against the rest of her golden flesh.

“Good afternoon my dears. I am Doctor Levi. What brings you two in?”

“I…um…f…found…a…k…kitten…” Her brow perks up.

“May I see them please?” She pats the metal table in front of her, turning around to wash her hands in the sink. My legs shake as I stand close to the metal, careful in unfurling my arms from the treasure. The kitten pokes its head out again, its face contorting with discomfort at the sudden loss. It lets out a pitiful cry, alerting the doctor of its form.

“Okay sweetie, lets have a look at you.” She unfurls the shirt, gasping slightly at its body. Even Papyrus appears in shock at the poor conditions of the creature.

“Poor dear…lets get you washed off really quick.” Despite its cries, the doctor runs the sink water over the kitten, humming. She begins scrubbing it with some sort of soap next to it, rinsing it off a moment later. When she turns around, the kitten looks even more pitiful with its wet fur making it look like a wet rat.

“The poor thing has a lot of fleas on it hence the lethargic nature. We will have to get a blood test as well as do some shots for it, but it is lucky you found it. Any longer by itself and it would’ve died.” She pokes the door open, calling out for another vet tec to come in.

_‘If I hadn’t found it…it would’ve…died?’ _The kitten shivers and cries, trying to find warmth to no avail. I quickly step forward, rewrapping my shirt around it for the moment. Doctor Levi does the basic examination of the kitten from the weight to the rapid blood test. She gives the kitten a thorough comb over the sink, consistently washing it of the fleas despite its cries.

“So, what are you going to name such a handsome little boy?” She coos, petting the shaking creature while her other hand carefully administers some sort of kitten vaccine.

“How Can You Tell If A Cat Is Handsome Or Not?” Papyrus inquires, looking over at the kitten like it was any other kitten.

“He has such a round, perfect face. And those eyes with the placement of his nose? He is a handsome little baby.” She coos. The rest of the visit goes on without a hitch. The vet prescribes at least two different types of medication and a flea repellant for when the little guy is dry. She tells Gwendolyn to set up an appointment within a month to continue vaccination as well as check on his healing process.

“Okay you two, the total comes to $150.67. Paps, did you want to place it on your account?”

“I Would Greatly Appreciate That Gwendolyn!” I stare between the two, my mind rushing a mile a minute.

“W…wait a mi…”

“Okay. The total is taken out of your account Paps. Will I see you Tuesday?”

“Affirmative! Till then Gwendolyn!” Papyrus grasps my hand, pulling my stumbling mess along. The heat is still blistering, but not as bad as it was earlier. Civilians move about the street similar to the morning rush, everyone eager to get home. Papyrus continues to drag us along, waving hi to those who call out from the crowd.

“W…wait Papyrus! Slow down a second!” The tall skeleton spins around, avoiding people while raising a bone brow in my direction.

“BUT WHY HUMAN…GASP! I AM A TERRIBLE FRIEND! HUMAN! I NEVER GOT YOUR NAME!” I blink.

_‘That’s what he is worried about…my name?’_

“I…Its ___. Now Papyrus…”

“___...WHAT A BEAUTIFUL NAME!” Blush slams against my cheeks, halting the question deep within. I gape up at him like a fish, glancing between the kitten and his form as if an answer would appear. The kitten sleeps on, oblivious to the world around him.

“NOW HUMAN ___! IN ORDER TO CELEBRATE OUR NEW FRIENDSHIP, WE SHOULD GO…”

“WHY DID YOU PAY MY BILL?” I blurt, nerves twitching beneath the surface.

_‘He’s going to demand payment at a later time. Even though I don’t have a lot, I need to pay him back for his kindness and then some. He didn’t have to take the time to show me let alone pay for something that wasn’t his…’_

“WHY WOULDN’T I?” I blink.

“Because it wasn’t your bill to pay Pap…” He cocks his head to the side, confusion swims in his sockets.

“BUT YOU ARE DOING A GOOD DEED HUMAN! I DO NOT KNOW HUMAN CUSTOMS VERY WELL, BUT I STRONGLY BELIEVE THAT THOSE WHO DO GOOD SHOULD BE REWARDED!”

“I will pay you b…” “DO NOT WORRY ABOUT PAYMENT HUMAN ___!” He stops midstride, halting the flow of traffic around us. Some individuals appear perturbed, but otherwise walk around the tall monster. Papyrus’ cheekbones raise in a cheerful smile; it shines with a brightness that could put the sun to shame. His scent overwhelms my senses, blocking out the world around us like a thick, orange bubble.

“INSTEAD, LET US COOK A MEAL TOGETHER TO CELEBRATE THIS NEW FRIENDSHIP!” My eyes widen. Something beats with eager yet anxious energy; the need to please, to keep, to have this light constantly shine overpowers the doubt that attempts to cloud my mind.

“Would you…like to come over tonight? We can cook together after I’m done…” Led drops into my stomach, anxiety curls through my mind with a numbing agent. Papyrus, noticing the shift, draws his brows in concern.

“HUMAN WHAT IS…”

“SHIT! I FORGOT TO CALL MUFFET!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening! I am sorry for the delay in this chapter. My perfectionist nature keeps these chapters from coming sooner due to scrapping ideas constantly. So, while this chapter is out, I may make edits at a later date (when I'm a little sober). I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Cheers~


	6. Chapter 5: Papyrus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To which we cook with Papyrus
> 
> Edit as of Decenber 15, 2020  
**Revised for holes in the story/understanding. Spelling mistakes and some scenarios changed. Thank you to SG for pointing them out :)**

**Chapter 5: Papyrus**

“WHAT?!” Fuku’s voice blares through the low-quality speaker; static clings to her words like clothes straight from the dryer. I wince at the volume, flinching, curling slightly in on myself. My free hand fiddles with the stitching along the rim of the borrowed shirt, attempting to quell the onslaught of anxiety. The black article of suffocation hugs the torso tightly, bringing on a new onslaught of problems should I take too deep of a breath. Let alone what would happen should my knapsack catch the edge of it…Lets not even begin to discuss the leg situation and painted on fabric practically amputating my legs…

“…” I attempt to say something, anything, to appease the kind elemental. Bright lights, people screaming, two figures constantly at wits ends while using two smaller forms as pawns. Never around. Always demanding. Did they ever think to check on them? Scars…a hand reaching for support…for help…backlash…hide.

_‘Breathe… You are here in the present. Times are different. She would never hurt you intentionally. Think of something else instead…like…how do girls like Claudia wear something so tight without wanting to rip the clothing to shreds?’ _Fuku’s voice drones on, turning to static as my mind wanders Muffet’s kitchen. Delectable sweets disappear into the night, leaving only the smell of bleach in its wake. The cool, medicinal summer breeze is a welcome compared to the blazing temperature of the sun and the various ovens. All remaining bipedal employees converse through the thick metal door leading to the entrance of the business. Their laughter barely holds a candle to Papyrus’ boisterous voice; the tone indicating a regaling of a story with sprinkles of exaggeration for good measure. Occasionally, a spider monster will catch my gaze as it continues to pack up the kitchen for the night.

“…Dad should know about this. Stars! I knew I should have stayed home with you like I originally intended!...” Ice stabs through my being; my heartrate increases in sheer panic.

_‘He can’t know about this! He will think I am incapable of taking care of myself! Besides I am…already a…burden…’_

“Fuku, I love you, however, we are **not **telling Grillby about the incidence today. The kitten sure, but **nothing else**.” My tone is final, absolute. Something crackles harshly on her side; the concern and anger that follows shortly after only fuels the fear.

“Like hell we aren’t ___! What if Papyrus, bless his kind soul, didn’t find you?! You would be panicking with no one to call! Or worse! What if something happened to you and you couldn’t reach us?! Strangers will prey on your kindness without a second thought! Especially when you struggle already with setting boundaries with people you know!”

“…” A noose-like grip holds my words hostage, leaving my body to gasp and shiver for air. Television-like static begins to fog my mind, numbing all thoughts to a single racing thought: **b.u.r.d.e.n.**

_‘Do they really see me as someone incapable to live a normal life? Incapable of interaction outside of the four walls around my social awkwardness? … Like a child barely out of their stripes? … Even with all my…issues…I’ve functioned this far without…’ _A snort breaks through the thought; deep, reverbing laughter echoes in the space just out of sight.

**_‘You have been incapable of living a normal life since you were a pathetic six-year-old. Interaction? You barely can hold a conversation without turning into a blubbering, stuttering mess. It was a fucking miracle that you made one friend.’ _**They cackle again. **_‘Well…ex-friend now I suppose. Or will you take her back despite taking your man? Like every time he told you a lie about something.’_**

Fingers slide gently over my shoulders, resting right before the junction of my neck. Stale, death-like air brushes the hairs along my nape with icicle daggers.

** _‘Complacent, naïve little puppet. You are about as fucking daft as they come with a stutter to boot. They will never be your friends. They will never truly love you. They will leave you at the earliest convenience… once you prove you are no more useful than a drug addict laying about the streets.’_ **

I look down at the tiled floor, taking a few, shallow breaths. It isn’t enough to satiate my lungs, but enough to bring my mind forward, focusing in on Fuku’s ramblings.

“Fuku…” Her voice searches desperately through the fog, her tangent appears to have no end in sight.

“We just…_I _just…” She huffs, struggling to find the words through the void.

“Just…ya’ know! I care about you ___! Dad cares about you! You’ve shown great strides adjusting to this new lifestyle and we want to see you flourish!” The shadow gives a squeeze, knocking what little air I have away.

**_‘You know the truth. They still see you as incapable as a child. If anything, you have taken steps backwards! She sugar coats her words with lies. Don’t believe them.’ _**The voice growls, slipping their fingers from their perch.

** _‘The fuckin’ skeleton is back. Remember, what I say is the truth and what they spill, is bullshit.’_ **

“I…understand Fuku…” I glance over my shoulder, eyes watching in wonder as the tall, lanky skeleton bends to converse with someone. His voice, contrary to his normal tone, is soft, quiet, barely audible even in the quiet setting. Instead of a warm, pleasing smile, a strange, unidentifiable takes over his features. It creates a sharpness to the skeleton and is amplified by the emotions radiating from his body. His feet are in constant motion, shifting back and forth as though unsure; his grip tightens and loosens the carboard carrier housing the kitten I have dubbed Sebastian. What is most unsettling about his features is his eyes: they do not waiver in their steely gaze, the corners curling down as though frowning.

_‘That look…doesn’t suit him well…’ _I scrunch my nose in distaste as an indescribable scent flits through the air, breaking even the bleach into submission. It’s strange combination of bitter rind and burnt sugar pulls my lips into a distasteful frown.

_‘Where is that scent coming from? The only change to the room is Papyrus and he doesn’t smell like that…_’As if sensing my gaze, the skeleton in question shifts his focus to my direction. A switch appears to flip his features, softening the sharp edges to a place between his usual self and his serious demeanor. The bitterness dissipates into his signature scent, however, bitter flutters just beneath the surface. His gaze lingers for a moment longer before returning to the unknown individual behind the door. A deep warmth shoves all the beautifully cold air conditioning from my face, painting it with ugly splotches of heat.

_‘What the fuck was that about?! Why the hell was I staring at him when I should be focusing on Fuku’s conversation?! I probably creeped him the hell out…no doubt giving myself the honorary title of disturbing fuck…Fuck. At this rate, Sans probably won’t let me around his brother if he finds out…’_

For the briefest of moments, I tune back into Fuku’s ramblings. It appears she has moved onto preaching about how much they care about me and how to better get myself out of situations. Guilt gnaws at my mind and soul for my lack of attention; fear and mistrust unravel any confidence previously built over my stay. The world blurs like an unfocused camera, intensifying the spiraling thoughts through my mind.

_‘And if Sans deems Paps not safe to hang around me, then what will happen with Grillby and Fuku? Will they turn on me too? Not that I would blame them…I am a waste of space…riddled with problems that cannot be solved with self-medication…An anomaly. Hell…I couldn’t even entertain a boy I loved long enough for him to stay…’_

Footsteps echo the small space; the air shifts scents as something disrupts the stagnant flow. I do not notice the subtle change, too far gone into my thoughts.

_‘People only stay around to gain something from me and then…leave. I understand. I do. I’m not easy to get along with, nor am I the picture of a perfect friend but…’_

Warmth, gentle and sweet, seeps through the thin shirt. It traverses over the bones and muscles of my back, bringing about a subtle breath of relief. Darkness sheds like a snake’s skin as a familiar tangerine light pokes holes through its walls. I inhale, noting a light static dancing along my shoulder. Its…strange but different in a good way. The magic is nothing like Sans’ whirlwind of salt and sea but rather warm, shining. It opens its arms wide like a best friend offering a hug, yet it hides an ulterior motive beneath it. All good intentions, yet, I cannot help but feel there is an overcast hiding the darker feelings within the shadow.

I lean back into the gentle giant, taking a greedy intake of air. A shiver runs up my spine as his magic disperses the coiling panic within my being. His hand hesitates for a moment, his magic following suit in confusion. It lasts only a second before it slides across my collar bone, resting on the opposite shoulder. The half arm hug is awkward due to height and the situation, but I cannot help the swell of gratitude towards Papyrus. My head leans awkwardly back into his ribcage while his skull cranes down to meet my gaze. A smile, true and genuine curls the corners of my lips up a hair. Papyrus’ sockets widen a little, his jaw moving as though to speak only for it to click shut. Tangerine light brushes the apples of his cheekbones, but he refuses to break eye contact.

_‘Papyrus would never leave me even if his brother deemed me dangerous. This kind, gentle giant could do no harm unless someone does something heinous.’ _

“…You Should Answer Her.” His voice breaks the moment, throwing Fuku’s voice to full volume once more. Mortification washes the moment away and one step into the cold is enough to bring my thoughts back to the conversation at hand. I refuse to look anywhere but the floor.

“I…I’m sorry Fuku. I…got lost in thought.” She lets out a quiet breath, adjusting the device. Wind whips within the receiver, a clear sign of her moving about the campus. Faintly, conversations float along the wind; students most likely changing classes just as she.

“Are you sure you are okay ___?” Was I? No, not really, but best not to let her know as much. It only causes burden on those around. Though her tone rings sincere, little whispers reassure me they are as fake as nail extensions. A smile cracks my lips, spitting battery acid along the splintering lines.

“I’m fine Fuku! You should probably hurry up though, before you’re late!” False words spit through, constricting my throat like a python. 

“I know” She huffs. “Just…could you ask Papyrus to walk you home please? It would make me feel better about everything knowing someone was with you.” I hum, gripping the phone with a little too much force.

“…Yeah. I can ask him.” She sighs in relief.

“Thank you ___. I’ll see you when I get home.” With a silent “bye”, the phone clicks off, leaving the dial tone in its wake. The device ignites into a bright light, dimming as soon as the app closes out. I bite my lip, staring hard at the darkness in front of me. Annoyance bites at my thoughts like a jack russel terrier.

_‘Of course, she would want someone to babysit me on my way home…Not that Papyrus is a bad choice, but I hardly know the guy. I mean… personally. Fan fictions tell of his various personalities with the main front being cavity level sweet. Still…I would like to see who he really is and maybe this friendship spaghetti will show me something others could not depict.’_

“Is Everything All Right Tiny Human?” I hum, pocketing the device.

“Fuku asked if you could accompany me home. I figured, since you were coming over for friendship spaghetti anyway, it would be redundant to ask.” Papyrus is quiet for a long moment, causing a nervous knot to twist my insides. I mentally smack myself for my own ignorance.

_‘I just fuckin’ assumed he was free tonight without having any regard in asking. Stupid!’_

“T…that is if you have nothing else going on of course! I didn’t mean to assume you had nothing going on at home. Ah…you know, forget about it! We can do it when you are available!” I try to backtrack, moving away as to get a better look at the skeleton’s torso. Not that I was avoiding his sockets! …

“Tiny Human! I Did Not Think You Wanted To Progress This Quickly Into Friendship!” His quiet yet strong voice causes an embarrassing blush to flush my cheeks. He appears not to care about the assumption, talking about it as if that was the plan all along.

“While We Are Skipping A Few Steps (Not That I Am Complaining!) I Am Glad You Want To Try My Friendship Spaghetti And Solidify This Blooming Relationship!”

“My, that is a wonderous idea Papyrus dear ahuhu~” My blood runs cold as Muffet inserts herself into the conversation; her steps slow, deliberate, as if drawing out tension. Her six eyes train like daggers in my direction, slitting ever so slightly as I glance everywhere but her gaze. A bag hands loosely in one of her arms, the familiar spider logo printed in the center of the bag. Papyrus, the beautiful little angel he is, beams with upmost pride at the praise.

“I Am Glad You Agree Muffet! And With The Pastries You Have Provided, It Shall Make A Wonderous Evening!” She chuckles at the praise, covering her fanged smile with one hand.

“I am glad you think so Papyrus! Though, I was wondering if I could talk to ___ before you depart. It would also be smart to let her carry the pastries since your hands are…preoccupied.” I whip my gaze to the skeleton, begging silently with my eyes. Blood pumps erratically in my ears, drowning my thoughts in panic.

_‘Please say no Paps! I don’t think I could handle her yelling at me for my shortcomings after everything that has happened…’_

“Why, Of Course Muffet! I Shall Wait Outside While You Talk To The Tiny Human! Human ___! When You Are Done With Conversing, We Shall Depart To Your Abode!” His boots echo with each step, amplifying the anxiety filled static. When the door shuts, a cold, shuttering feeling washes over my form. Only a few spiders remain in the kitchen with us, their voices carrying but a whisper in their private language. I can feel their eyes staring in curious wonder as their boss moves closer, each step louder than the last.

_‘Fuck! Shit! She is going to fire me for sure! I just…I can’t…!’_

“Now dearie~” Her voice is sickeningly sweet, deceptively kind for someone who is about to lay into me. The silence is long, drawn out; whether on purpose or accident I do not know.

“Why are you hanging your head like that?” Her question strikes me odd, but I answer, swallowing past a rock in my throat.

“…I…feel as though I have done something…deserving of my…termination.”

“Termination? You think I am going to fire you child?” I do not answer, fighting back the tears steadily pooling in my sockets. Muffet sighs. Two of her hands gently cup my face, each finger splaying as though memorizing the features. A stray lock moves with another hand while a fourth one gives a gentle pat atop my head.

“___. Look at me.” Her hands carefully pull my gaze to meet her own. Six onyx eyes glitter back with varying degrees of worry; flecks of amethyst create stars amidst the void of space. Her mouth pulls into a neutral expression; two twin peak fangs twinkle from under thick, luscious, lavender lips. Faintly, in the background, my brain fills in a familiar tune hums where hands clap in a rhythmic pattern against an orchestra. Her scent overwhelms my senses, flushing the gnawing feeling away with a single wisp.

“You think you are getting fired for missing the remainder of your shift, yes?” I nod, face flushing in panic and shame. A traitorous tear drips from the corner of my socket. She catches it gently with her thumb, wiping it back into the skin.

“My dear, how long have you been working for my business?” I exhale with the stability of a newborn doe.

“…A…bout three months.” She hums.

“And how many times have you come in early and stayed late to ensure everything gets done?”

“I…don’t know…” She pauses, staring down with an unknown look in her eyes. Or, a kind, knowing look I am unwilling to accept.

“A lot more than you think my dear. You are one of the hardest working people I have seen in my time.” I go to interrupt, lips parting in protest, but the words fall as a single digit silences them.

“You will listen to my words child. I may not look it, however, I have been around nearly as long as Grillby and the Queen herself. In my extensive years, hard workers are hard to come by and, those that are, struggle to gain loyalty. It would be easy to slack or do the minimum effort required by retail standards. But you my dear…” She chuckles to herself, allowing a true smile to relax her features. Dark circles are evident under the spider monster’s eyes, the typical wear and tear eats at any quality time she has. Little frays of hair stick out of her ponytails in every direction, some breaking in odd directions. When was the last time she got any proper self-care?

“You are quick to take on duties that are not part of your status. You help the old and new with bustling rushes as well as pick up a piping bag when needed. You come in every day early, staying late with no complaints even though you have a long walk in either direction. You, my dear, have not only earned respect for your hard work, but my loyalty as well.” I gape unattractively at her; negative words wish to spill, to race out as quick as the rushing thoughts. A compliment of such high regard gives my soul an overall warming feeling only to be shunned with a sheet of ice. It is as though my soul wishes for these niceties, practically begging for this kind of reassurance each day. Instead, the mind blocks such wistful thoughts in fear of harming the soul further when the words bite back.

“I…” She shushes my words once more, a glint of knowing shines in her eyes.

“Now dearie, I will not have you retaliate with such soul harming words. In fact…” Her lips twist into a killer smile, showing off not only her fangs but a row of sharp teeth behind them.

“You will take the next couple days off for… recovery reasons. All paid of course.” She amends, flashing a time card just out of sight. Red pen lines mark the inconsistencies each day, adding minutes to hours past what I had originally put. A rather large number circles the bottom of the page with a calculated wage next to it. I gently push her digit away from my lips, eying the paper warily.

“Won’t… you need help for the next couple of days? There’s…a huge monster wedding due in two days. Not to mention the sweets for…the shop…”

“It is taken care of and planned accordingly.” I huff, feeling a bubble of something rise within.

“What about the birthday party for the governor? If that doesn’t get handled correctly…it could shut down your business…or cause harm to monster’s advances…”

“It is being covered by myself along with a few fellow monsters in the baking circuit. Should I need additional help, the other caterers have agreed to lend a hand.”

“What about the day-to-day operations?! You’ll have to practically live here if I take the time off! You deserve your own time away from the business! You need to take better care of yourself!” Muffet stifles a giggle behind a hand, her head shaking as if hearing a secret joke. She takes a step back, releasing me from her hold only to gesture at my form.

“Shouldn’t you be taking the same advice ___? Ahuhu~” I open my mouth to protest, to tell her I am not running myself ragged in order to be seen safe in societies’ eyes. That, because of my species, no one bats an eye in my direction unless I prove outside of their alignment. Muffet chuckles, her face aging as quick as the sands of time. I gently pull back the next line of protest, watching a once proud, all-knowing monster shrink into the pits of depression.

_‘Right…She’s seen worse especially if she lived through the monster human war…A little struggle like this won’t phase someone of her caliber but…’_

“Take the time off child. The business won’t burn down in your absence and your position will remain until you return.” The employee entrance jiggles, causing both of our gazes to shift. Papyrus stands nervously in the doorway, face flush in either embarrassment or guilt.

“I DO NOT MEAN TO HURRY YOUR CONVERSATION ALONG MUFFET, BUT IT IS GETTING RATHER DARK! AS GREAT OF AN EYE SIGHT AS I HAVE, I DO NOT WISH FOR MY NEW FRIEND AND COMPANION SEBASTIAN (THOUGH WHY WON’T THE FURRY MONSTER JUST GIVE US IT’S NAME?) TO GET INJURED!” Muffet’s body language softens at the skeleton’s concern, pulsing her sweet dusty smell in contentment.

“Quite right Papyrus dear. Your timing is impeccable as always. She will be out in just a second ahuhu~.” He looks between the two of us, shifting ever so slightly; his eyes squint a fraction, asking a silent question. I flush under his gaze, but respond confidently with a nod. His sockets remain for a second more, attempting to detect a lie that isn’t there. When he fails to find it, his face dips behind the metal frame.

“I do believe it is time for you to start your vacation my dear ahuhu~. Oh, and do not worry about your clothing. It is being…taken care of delicately. You shall have it back upon your return.” I bow, fighting the flush off my face.

“I…thank you Muffet. I promise to work hard…once I return.”

_‘If it wasn’t for the fact Papyrus and Sans look the way they do, I would think this was an alternate universe Muffet! She’s…really nice honestly…nothing like her depiction in other writings…Strange. I wonder if it is because they base it off her prices in the video game?’_

A hand gentle yet rough like felt taps atop my head, pulsing a gentle wave of magic. It eases the tension in my shoulders, sweeping some of the anxiety away with sweet sugar. When her voice replies, it wrings the previous tension from the air like an old dish towel, leaving only her sweet, dusty scent in its wake.

“I know you will ___. I trust you.”

* * *

“So, Everything Went Well Then?” Papyrus converses from his position at the adjacent counter. Tomato innards and juice spill across the countertop and some of the wallpaper. Spices sprinkle the counter like confetti, bathing the kitchen in a mostly Italian scent. Little broken bits of spaghetti litter the floor, allowing Sebastian some form of entertainment while dinner is in preparation. While he has learned that broken spaghetti is not food, I cannot help but keep a watchful eye when I have a spare moment.

“…Yeah…” I hum, carefully stirring the pasta within the boiling pot. The noodles spin loosely in the mini cyclone, pushing a starch residue to the top. What doesn’t remain in the pot drips over the rim, down the sides of the pot onto the prongs beneath. A gentle charcoal mark stains a corner of the pot; a simple reminder to the skeleton that some appliances cannot withstand the fiery passion.

_‘At least this version of Papyrus knows some things about cooking…It would be really difficult if he was starting from scratch…and all that glitter…’_

I shiver, checking for the umpteenth time the fire beneath both cooking vessels. They both remain in place, neither one reaching a higher temperature than medium to low heat.

_‘No stomach, no matter how strong someone claims it to be, would be able to withstand the amount of uncooked, overcooked, glitterfied dish only Papyrus knows how to make…’ _Papyrus walks over with the remaining chopped tomato, tossing it into the sizzling pan to my left. Skeletal hands reach for the wooden spoon resting on the counter, twirling it with ease through the sauce. Red gloves remain carefully placed on the dining table, away from any potential danger. I find myself watching Papyrus put his all into the dish despite it not following his guidelines.

_‘His fingers look strange too…pointed yet curved, straight yet slim…everything looks like a jigsaw piece with mechanical parts moving everything into its proper place…’_

“That’s Wonderful! Muffet May Not Seem It, But She Has A Kind Soul! Though her prices would leave you to believe she was something other than…”

Papyrus mumbles under his breath, squinting his eyes at the bubbling contents. It looks as if he is daring the sauce to do something out of line so he can “Give It A Lesson In Being A Good Sauce!” I smile softly, pushing a stray lock away from my face.

“…You’re not wrong Paps…” He snorts; the sound warbles between a deep baritone like his brother and something airy.

“I Am Seldomly Ever Wrong Human ___! Trying To Convince Others That Line Of Thought Process However…” He shakes his skull.

“Never Mind That! I Will Have To Try Harder Next Time!” Confusion pulls at my face, but I do not ask him to elaborate further.

_‘Was I supposed to understand where that line of thought was going? An inner monologue perhaps? Maybe Sans doesn’t like him going there because of her reputation in the Underground? Maybe he spends his days not only helping other monsters, but also convincing humans that monster food isn’t poisonous?’_

“Human! Could You Try This For Me? I Trust My Excellent Pallet, But With This Human Version Of The Recipe, I Want To Make Sure It Meets My Standards!”

“…Sure…Though, I probably…won’t be much help…” The warmth from the stovetop flushes my skin and is definitely the reason my face is redder than the sauce.

“Nonsense! I Trust In Your Pallet Human!” Performance anxiety and something I cannot identify flutters within my chest, putting an immense amount of pressure on this moment. Logically, I know this is just Papyrus: a kind, brave soul who is only looking forward to eating together. But internally, it feels as though I am standing on a ledge, staring at two wires in hopes of cutting the correct one.

I watch as Papyrus expertly swipes a phalange through the sauce with no regard to its temperature. His spine bends at a near perfect 90-degree angle with little to no difficulty. A little glob of sauce sits perfectly atop his finger, dripping little orange translucent tears down the bone. Steams wafts off the hot object while simultaneously pushing its aromatic scent in my direction. With no concern for sanitation or personal space, Papyrus thrusts the digit just millimeters from my lips. Any refusal or rebuttal dies in my throat at his wide, excitable grin.

I gape like a fish, glancing between the finger and his face.

_‘D…does he not see the implication here?! I mean…in human standards…people do this to…ya know…turn on their male partner…And that temperature! He literally just dug his finger clean through a sauce that is probably 90 some degrees!_’

“Are You Okay Human ___? Do I Need To Feed It To You?” If this were an anime, a nose bleed and potentially a K.O would appear over my head. Words cannot describe the fire melting the flesh on my face nor the feeling of a speeding train pulsating in my chest.

“N…No! I can do it!” I stare between the digit and his face, attempting to find the secret way not to make this sexual…or weird.

_‘I mean, I could maybe just give it a little lick? Or maybe just wipe the sauce off with my finger and taste it that way? Maybe forego his finger all together and risk the first, maybe second degree burn by swiping my finger through the sauce?’ _

“Human…If You Do Not Hurry, You Will Waste The Sauce. You Wouldn’t Want To Do That To Our Friendship Spaghetti Would You?” I grab his wrist, thrusting the digit into my mouth without a second thought. Immediately, my lips begin to tingle with magic coursing through his being. It fizzles like carbonation, yet it only lingers a fraction in comparison to the strong citrus dripping across my tongue. Ignoring the magic, I carefully wrap my tongue around the bone, swiping the sauce away in one stroke. While the sauce is a little bitter, it otherwise tastes well-made. The tomatoes aren’t as acidic compared to some recipes while the basil and garlic pick up in the flavor department. A hint trace of onion pokes holes through the sauce, but it dances with the rest of the ingredients beautifully.

_‘His hand is actually…really smooth. Even with the point of his finger, I didn’t prick myself when I grabbed the sauce. Strange. I wonder if magic is supposed to have a taste like their smell or if it changes? Could it change? I know in one fan fiction the magic can change due to acceptance or trauma…’_

“…_...___?” I glance up, my mind lost in a fog of thoughts. Papyrus glances down, his face unreadable. A bright blush covers the bridge of his face, yet his eyes refuse to look away. The digit slides across my tongue, sparking its sweet flavor across each tastebud. Unconsciously, I lick the tip on its way out, watching in mild fascination as the flavor deepens along with his color. The air shifts around us, calling on something primal, dark, forbidden. Scenarios play across both our minds, widening my eyes while his tint with a familiar darkness. For a moment, I can feel his dark promise whisper across my skin…

With a resounding _‘pop!’ _the world snaps back to reality. I jump back in shock and mortification, looking in every direction other than his sockets.

“The pasta!” I squeak, flicking both flames into the off position. With little thought, I grab the pot, rushing it over to the sink. Steam immediately fills the small space, splashing my skin with a faint yet familiar pain.

_‘What the fuck was that just now?! Why did I do that?! That was uncool and worse! I practically licked his finger like I was thirsty or something! Fuck I probably ruined this friendship or at least made it weird as all hell!’_

“Human ___? Are You Okay? Is The Steam Suppose To Hit You In The Face?” Papyrus’ concern only smacks the anxious feeling higher, stringing my nerves tighter than a vacuum sealed electronic.

“I…I’m fine! We should…get the sauce off the stove so it doesn’t burn further!” I can feel his sockets stare into my back, wanting to say more but unsure how to approach it.

_‘Please just ignore it Papyrus! I’d rather not talk about what just happened there and attempt to forget it in the next five years or so…’_

A quiet beat passes between us before his sockets move onto the sauce, sliding the metal away from its heat source. I take a few deep breaths before turning around with the colander of pasta, smacking a smile onto my face. Internally, I continue to scream and die in utter embarrassment as the scene plays on a brutal repeat.

The rest of the preparation goes on without any more…hinderances. Well, except for Sebastian who feels it is necessary to intertwine himself around our legs as we move hot pans. Papyrus attempts to scold the furball for “Nearly Tripping Me And Potentially Harming Yourself!” while I take careful strides around his looping form.

“___! I’m home!” Fuku’s voice rings through the house, popping the silent bubble within the air.

“I’m in the kitchen with Papyrus!” I call, putting the last plate of pasta down. Papyrus fidgets nervously, opening his jaw in an attempt to help with the setup, but a pleading look from my eyes silences his request. Leftover pasta is already in a storage container, cooling on the countertop before it can go anywhere near the refrigerator. Dishes are thrown into the dishwasher along with a few miscellaneous things from the previous day. It hums and churns in the background while it washes the cooking grime away.

Warm hands surround my frame, practically pulling my being into hers in a giant, heartwarming hug. I cannot help but crack a grateful smile at the elemental.

“…Welcome home Fuku…” She sighs, nestling her head atop of mine.

“It’s so good to be home after a day like today. Everyone was so…” I raise a brow.

“…annoying?” She hums, tilting her head in Papyrus’ direction.

“Hey Papyrus. Thanks for bringing my sister home after…an eventful day. We owe you.”

“Nonsense Fuku! I Am Glad To Help Anyone In Need!” I wince. The little word, though used lightly, is a reminder trekked on daily. Worthless. Helpless. In the wrong time.

_‘Stop. Right now is not the time to have a meltdown. When everyone is done, I can excuse myself to my makeshift space and break down then.’_

Fuku gives one more squeeze before releasing. She takes a seat at one of the dishes while I take up the last plate setting.

“Did you guys make this? It smells amazing!” I flush while Papyrus puffs his chest out like a puffin.

“We Did Indeed! This Is A Special Dish Intending To Solidify ___ And I’s Friendship!” A quiet yet audible squeal escapes the elemental as she glances between the two of us, her eyes sparkling like stars in the sky.

“Is it now? This is wonderful news and definitely a reason to celebrate!” I flush, keeping my gaze at the noodles before me rather than her eager eyes. Her soul practically sings with how happy she is, its tendrils spark out in a comfortable, eager static.

Her fork hits the ceramic plate, most likely picking up the noodles to try.

“Cheers! To a new friendship!” She cheers, taking the first bite of food.

“Cheers!” Papyrus mimics with the same level of enthusiasm.

“C…Cheers!” I quickly twirl a heap of noodles onto my fork, not wanting to speak any more for the moment. Eggy worm like noodles bend and twirl quickly up the fork, attempting to take the red coloration along for the ride. Bits of tomato and onion attempt to cling on as stowaways to no avail. The contents make their way into my mouth and I cannot help the little hum that slips out.

_‘It…actually tastes really good despite everything…’_

“You two did an incredible job! ___, I didn’t know you could cook!” I flush, twirling another large portion.

“…I really can’t…” I mumble under my breath, throwing another glob of food into my mouth.

“Nonsense ___! While Most Of It Was Conducted Under My Watchful, Masterful Sockets, You Did Not Require Any Assistance Or Hints At All! That Is A True Working Of A Chef In Training!” To make his point clear, Papyrus takes a rather large bite of his food. Tomato sauce smears gracefully along his teeth, dying them in a russet orange similar to his magic. Bits of seasoning cling for dear life in the sauce, peppering his smile with little black holes. I cannot help the smile breaking onto my face, nor the urge to laugh at such childish antics from the large skeleton. Seeing this, Papyrus takes it upon himself to scoop an even larger portion just to paint even more of his teeth. Fuku begins to giggle at my side, not helping my case in the slightest.

“U…um Pap…? You got…a little…” I make a wiping motion across my lips. He tilts his head in mock confusion; mischief sparkles deep within his sockets.

“A Little What Human ___?” I attempt to make the motion again, but stop mid wipe to conceal a giggle. Somehow, he manages to get sauce across one of his cheekbones, the little droplets cling for dear life.

“I Do Not See What You Mean! You Must Speak Up!” His face moves closer to my section of table, his teeth wide in a knowing grin. At this point, Fuku is in full blown giggle mode giving no help to my corner. Mischief rolls off him in waves, practically challenging me to do something about it. While my mind screams no, to ignore it otherwise I will be embarrassed once more, a deeper feeling demands to play along. Like earlier in the day, something about being around Papyrus screams at me to let go, to say _‘Fuck it!’ _and play along.

I do just that. Taking a finger as Papyrus did earlier, I swipe some sauce right from his teeth, putting it in front of his teeth.

“You have a little sauce on your face.” My grin widens, bearing my slightly crooked teeth in a playful challenge. It takes him a moment to understand before recognition flashes across his face. I watch in fascination as his face morphs from a silly, playful skeleton to something akin to a playful challenge. His grin widens a hair, stretching the sauce further across his features while his sockets crinkle. A familiar darkness flashes through them, but is gone as quickly as it came. I expect the skeleton to laugh at the joke, pushing my finger away while he works on cleaning his face. Or, I expect him to retaliate by smearing some sauce on his fingers as if just discovering the evidence. What I don’t expect, is his maw to open just wide enough for a tongue to poke through. Bright orange just like his magic, yet it glitters as if someone dumped an entire packet of gold glitter onto an orange canvas. Swirls of similar gold push the orange plasma around, creating a spectacular show.

Papyrus’ tongue slowly yet deliberately pulls my finger into his mouth, giving a gentle lick. The smile immediately drops from my face while a firetruck red paints it in its entirety. The carbonation is stronger within his mouth, poking, prodding similar to his tongue. It caresses, searches, explores, memorizing the moment while seeking answers on the human anatomy. I remain stock still, afraid to glance away from the gaze holding my own. He moves first, pulling away in time for Fuku to quell her giggling. I pull my own finger back, wiping the traces of fizz onto my pant leg.

I eat the remainder of the meal in silence, unaware of the stare of a certain skeletal monster and the knowing look from the fire elemental.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a long gap for this chapter! Between quitting my job for mental health reasons to seasonal depression, this chapter is long overdue. I am attempting to work on the one after this before the new year so here is hoping! Thank you for sticking out this long on a new reading. Cheers~

**Author's Note:**

> This is a secondary branch off story dealing with the multiverses. It is a break from my main story in hopes of riding the writers block I am having. I hope everyone enjoys :) Cheers~


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